The Sapphire Flute

by Karen E. Hoover

  Marda opened her mouth to answer, then paused, gnawing at the corner of her lip. Finally she closed it and shrugged. “I want to, truly I do, but that’s going to take a little more time. Can you be patient with me when I get stubborn?”

  A little more of the ice melted. Her mother’s honesty was more important to Ember than blank agreement. She chuckled. “Well, that’s what I’ve been doing for sixteen years—it shouldn’t be that hard to continue. At least now I know I can talk to you about it. I love you, Mum. I just wanted you to know that.” She looked down, scuffing the toe of her boot along the smooth marble floor.

  Marda placed both hands on the sides of Ember’s face and lifted her eyes to meet her own. “I love you too, my dear. I haven’t said it often enough, I think. You handled yourself well tonight. I’m proud of you.”

  Ember threw her arms around her mother and squeezed, tears running in rivulets down her face to dampen her mother’s shirt. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know,” she managed to get out. Marda squeezed back and said nothing, just kissed the top of her daughter’s head before she gently pushed her to arm’s length and changed the subject.

  “Paeder has been desperate to see you. Why don’t you spend some time with him alone tonight and let him know about all your adventures? He’d love to hear the story.” Marda cradled Ember’s cheek in her hand one last time before she moved past Ember to the door. She put her hand on the clear square, and the door opened with a soft click. She pushed it open and beckoned for Ember to enter.

  The room smelled of sickness, and Ember’s heart clenched with sorrow and regret. Paeder lay on the single bed, Ren holding his hand. They both smiled as she walked in, and her half-brother stood and patted the stool he’d been sitting on. Ember gripped his arm as they passed and settled in the same position he had been in, with Paeder’s big hand in her own.

  “We’re right next door if there’s a problem,” Marda said before she smiled with tear-filled eyes and closed the door, leaving Ember alone with the dying man.

  “You came,” he whispered, and squeezed her hand without any strength.

  “Of course I came. How could I not, after your letter? Thank you, not only for Brownie and Diamond Girl, but mostly for your beautiful words. They meant the world to me—Da.”

  The words felt awkward on her tongue, but she meant them with all her heart. Paeder was the only father she’d known. He deserved the respect of being named as one.

  Paeder’s breath caught as a tear trickled down his cheek to bury itself in his hair. Ember wiped it away for him. “Hey now, none of that. You need happy memories to live by now.”

  “There is none happier than hearing you call me ‘Da,’” he said before he began coughing. Ember wasn’t sure what to do. The bottle of medicine that was usually at his bedside at home was missing. She stood to get Marda, but he grabbed her wrist with surprising strength. “I’m fine,” he choked out. “Stay. Too stuffy in here. Maybe you could open the window?”

  Ember nodded once before moving to the large glass. It took her a moment to figure out the mechanism, but shortly the window had been shoved upward, and a sweet breeze wafted in. Paeder took a breath and the coughing fit passed. Relieved, Ember sat again. This time he reached and took her hand. “Tell me about your adventures since last I saw you.” His voice was rough from the constant coughing, but more alive than she’d heard it in a while. A bubble of contentment rose to envelop her heart. It was a small thing she could do to make him happy, and so she began with her departure from the house and meeting Ian. She told him about her ear sinking into the stone, and changing into a wolf. She told him about Shad, running with the pack, DeMunth and his singing, the mage trial, and finally about her evening with the Mage Council and Laerdish’s betrayal. “They want Mum to join the council to see if she can’t weed out any other betrayers.”

  “Really?” he asked, his eyes alight. “I didn’t even know she could do magic. I can’t believe she kept that from me all these years, though I do understand her reasons. She was pretty broken up after your father died.” He began to cough, sounding worse than ever. When he stopped and caught his breath, he continued. “Jarin was the love of her life. I knew it then and I know it now, but she and I have our own kind of love, devotion thing. She’s a good woman, your mother.” Paeder’s voice fell to a near whisper. “Hang onto her and do whatever you can to get her to accept that offer. She needs them as much as they need her.” His energy seemed to fade with every word. Ember’s heart squeezed with fear. She hadn’t realized talking would tire him so easily.

  “I will, Da. Why don’t you rest now?”

  “No, no. I don’t want to miss a moment with you, my dear. You were the best thing that ever happened to our family. You’ve kept us bound and made us a true family, though we don’t all share blood. Keep them close, Ember. Don’t let the boys drift away. I worry for Tiva—” Paeder started coughing again, and after the third round he expelled all his breath and didn’t take another one. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling and slowly lost their light.

  “No. No, no, no, no!” she whispered, the strength taken from her at his sudden passing. “You can’t be dead, Paeder, you can’t! Da, come back!” Her voice never reached the door, it was so quiet. She laid her head on his stomach, wrapped her arms around him and sobbed, her heart breaking. She’d been sure the council would find an answer for him. How would the family go on without him? How could the farm survive? Tiva and Ren and Aldarin needed their father. She needed a father. She’d lost not one father, but two, and her grief was almost as much for her birth father as for this man who’d raised her.

  Vaguely, she heard a flutter of wings at the window. She glanced through her tears to see a white blur perched on the window sill. It was the white hawk that had followed her from Karsholm.

  “Why don’t you help him?” She glared at the bird. “You can protect me, but not save him? How am I supposed to go on when I’ve lost my father, again? I need him, so you just go back to whomever keeps sending you and tell them to bring him back!” Her voice broke on a sob. All the anger and fear had built to bursting. It hurt so much, she thought her heart would explode with it.

  The hawk chirped, hopped once, then gathered itself and took off from the ledge. For a brief second, Ember thought he might be able to do something, that he might have understood and really would go for some heavenly help.

  Almost instantly she reprimanded herself for being so silly, so childish in her belief. A bird? She was asking help from a bird? Ember snorted, then stood. Somebody had to tell the family what had happened, and the responsibility was on her shoulders alone.

  She took a step toward the door, then spun as wingbeats returned. The white hawk soared through the window, circled upward, then dove directly into Paeder’s chest. At first Ember wasn’t sure she had seen right. The bird had aimed right at him, but had disappeared on impact. It was nowhere to be found.

  Ember sat back on the stool for a moment, weary with disbelief and grief. Was she going crazy? She glanced at the still form of Paeder, and her heart stopped beating for a very long instant. Paeder’s chest was moving. Up and down it went, harder and faster, almost as if there were a battle taking place within his body. Black ooze began to seep from his mouth and nose, thick and tar-like. It crept down his cheek and stained the pillow beneath him.

  Once the stream stopped, Paeder’s skin began to glow—softly at first, but the brightness increased until Ember could hardly bear to look at him. She threw her arm over her face to protect it from the light, her heart hammering in her chest as if it would thump its way into her throat. She backed away from Paeder’s body, unsure what was happening, when suddenly the light stopped, and Paeder took a gasping breath.

  Ember lowered her arm, incredulous. Her body felt wave after wave of chill bumps. Had she just witnessed a miracle?

  Paeder continued to gasp, his back arching to get enough breath. He gave a strangled groan before he collapsed back onto the pillows, an
d the white hawk burst from his chest. The bird stood on Paeder’s stomach and shook itself. At first Ember was afraid the bird had blasted a hole in Paeder, but there was no blood. Evidently the hawk was of a spiritual nature.

  Paeder seemed to have passed out or fallen back to sleep. His breath continued steadily, stronger than she’d heard for a very long time. Ember hardly breathed as she watched her guardian spirit hop from Paeder’s stomach, to the bed, and finally the stool.

  His form shimmered, lengthening, until it solidified and a man sat upon the stool. He stared at Ember, a soft smile playing across his lips, his green eyes twins to her own.

  “Hello, Shandae,” he said, his voice a rich baritone that sent thrills through Ember’s heart. She knew this face, but it couldn’t be!

  “Da?” she whispered, still not believing what her eyes told her to be true.

  He nodded.

  “Da?” she asked again, and rubbed at her tear-swimming eyes.

  “Yes, my sweet.”

  “You mean, it’s been you all along, and you never told me?” Ember demanded in a hurt tone.

  Jarin chuckled. “I’m afraid so. There are rules, you see.”

  “But—I thought you were dead!”

  “I am.”

  Ember’s heart sank again. For a moment, she’d thought she might get to have both of her fathers back.

  Jarin continued. “At the moment of my death, I was given a choice. I could join the spirits who dwell in paradise, or I could stay and be changed in order to do Mahal’s will. I chose the latter. I couldn’t stand to be away from you, my dear. I would have died a thousand deaths to keep you safe.”

  “I only wish I’d known it was you. I have so many questions—”

  “It will have to wait for another time, Shandae.” Ember tried not to let her feelings be hurt as he continued. “I have a message for you, your family, and the council. Call them, please.”

  “But—”

  “Ember, there is little time. Your questions will be answered at a later date. For now, I have things that need to be said.” He glanced upward and grimaced. “And time is about finished.” He glanced to Paeder and then Ember. “You must serve as my messenger, my love, you and this blessed man who has watched over you when I could not.” He reached a glowing hand to Paeder’s forehead and pushed his hair

  back from his face, much as a father does his child. He then covered Paeder’s eyes with his fingers and gave a single command.

  “Awake.”

  Immediately Paeder’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up, the blanket falling to his waist as he turned to face Jarin. “Who are you?” Paeder’s voice had vibrant strength resonating through it that took him by surprise. His hand went to his throat, then his chest. He took an experimental deep breath and grinned like a little boy when he found he could breathe without coughing.

  “I am Jarin, father of Ember and once husband to Brina,” he said.

  “But, you’re dead!” Paeder said, paling.

  Jarin glanced at Ember and chuckled. “Yes, quite.” He cleared his throat, a very unspirit-like sound. “I have a message for the council, and very little time in which to deliver it. In exchange for your service as mouthpiece—and as thanks for raising my daughter—I have given you healing and beg you to deliver my words to the council. They are the words of my master, delivered to you as they were given to me.”

  Jarin cleared his throat once more and began, his voice resonating like sound through a cave.

  “I am Mahal, Guardian and Creator of Rasann, Eldest of the Hundred Guardians and Master of the White Magic. The time has come to show my face upon Rasann, though my foot touches not her shore. Clean your house, masters of the magic. Cleanse the darkness of S’Kotos from among you, for the wolfchild is come. The time of healing is at hand.”

  Jarin turned to Ember. “Would you deliver a message to your mother for me?” His voice sounded normal once more.

  Ember nodded, awed by his presence. She couldn’t get enough of his face and stared until her eyes burned, almost afraid to blink.

  “Tell her I still love her and will continue the work of my life on the other side. Tell her I am a father forever and will watch over you. For you, my dear, dear child—know that I love you. Believe in yourself as I do. I shall never be far.”

  Ember ran to him before he could fly away and threw herself into his embrace. He wrapped very real arms around her and held her for just a moment before he evaporated into mist and disappeared.

  “Believe in yourself as I do.” Jarin’s words echoed through Ember’s head and heart. She wished he had stayed longer. She had so many questions, so many things she wanted to know and no chance to ask them now. Her heart swelled. He wouldn’t be far away. She’d get the answers from him one way or another.

  In the meantime, she had her other father, healed and whole, with a family still unaware. She had witnessed a miracle and couldn’t wait to share it.

  Her eyes streaming, she left the room and banged on Marda’s door. It flew open quickly, Marda on the other side. She took one look at Ember’s tears and collapsed. “No!” she sobbed, hands covering her face.

  “No, Mum. It’s not what you think.” Ember knelt beside her, a comforting arm across her shoulder.

  Another voice came from the room next door. Ember glanced over. Paeder stood in the doorway, chuckling. “Marda! I am healed!”

  Marda’s head snapped up. Her jaw dropped in astonishment. Slowly she got to her feet, her knees shaking and giving out beneath her with each step, until she stood in front of the man she had thought dead. She reached one tremulous hand forward to caress his warm and living flesh.

  “But . . . how?” she choked.

  “You won’t believe it, Marda. I was healed by a dead man, given life from a ghost. A man we all thought dead, but somehow has been brought back.” He laughed out loud then and danced about in glee.“Jarin did it, Marda. Ember’s father, Jarin—he healed me!”

  Marda’s knees gave out a second time, but Paeder kept her from falling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a solid kiss. Ember’s heart lifted, seeing the two of them. Marda glanced at Ember for confirmation and Ember slowly nodded her head.

  “It’s true. Paeder was dead, Mum. Da brought him back to deliver a message to the council, though I honestly think he used that as an excuse.”

  Marda snorted. “That would be just like him. Well, if you’ve got a message to deliver to the council, we’d better go before they dismiss.” Ember nodded and fell into line behind her parents, Paeder shirtless and shoeless with an arm around his wife. Marda leaned into him as if she couldn’t get close enough.

  Aldarin, Tiva, and Ren rounded the corner and stopped in astonishment at the sight of their father. Paeder ran to them and threw his arms around his boys. Their voices tumbled over each other with laughter and tears as Paeder told them right there in the allway what had happened. One by one, the doors around the family opened and people stepped out to listen to the story. Before long, a large crowd had gathered around Paeder.

  At the telling, they cheered, lifting Paeder to their shoulders to convey him to the council chambers, Ember and her mother following arm-in-arm behind them.

  Their cheer was a sound Ember would never forget, a sound that stilled her heart and filled it, a sound that meant all her dreams were fulfilled . . . and yet had only just begun.

  About the Author

  Karen E. Hoover has loved the written word for as long as she can remember. Her favorite memory of her dad is the time he spent with Karen on his lap, telling her stories for hours on end. Her dad promised he would have Karen reading on her own by the time she was four years old … and he very nearly did. Karen took the gift of words her dad gave her and ran with it. Since then, she’s written two novels and reams of poetry. Her head is fairly popping with ideas, so she plans to write until she’s ninety-four or maybe even a hundred and four.

  Inspiration is found everywhere, but Karen’s heart is fuel
ed by her husband and two sons, the Rocky Mountains, her chronic addiction to pens and paper, and the smell of her laser printer in the morning.

  You can find the author online at:

  http://www.karenehoover.com