by D M Fike
“Ina!” Guntram’s voice came through muffled. “It’s over! Release your barrier!”
I stared slack-jawed at my augur. His face had turned a pale green and his injured arm flopped at his side, obviously broken, but he was alive. He knocked again at my invisible shield, gesturing toward the trees surrounding the parking lot.
“We must go now!” he yelled.
I let go of the defensive charm, and the barrier vanished. The sounds of the beach and the simmering storm came rushing back into my ears. I glanced dumbly down at Vincent the park ranger, who lay moaning on the beach.
Guntram grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me forward. “He’s alive.”
Apparently, that was good enough for Guntram. We raced for the parking lot. I glanced back only once to find Ronan frantically splashing back into the waves, heading out to where he was more mobile. Vincent the park ranger remained writhing on his back, clearly in pain.
We broke through the tree line at the same time as another forest service vehicle pulled up next to Vincent’s. As a uniformed woman rushed out to help Vincent, we fled deeper into the woods. Guntram kept up a grueling pace, searching for our exit point. A mile into the thicket, we spotted the first sign of a bluish haze twinkling in the deep underbrush. We stumbled toward it, both of us still shaky after the unexpected encounter.
I paused in front of a giant spruce, its base lit up with hundreds of soft pulsating orbs like little fairies. We’d made it to a will o’ the wisp channel, a pathway that shepherds use to travel instantly from one predetermined spot to another far away. It’s basically tree teleportation, and it helps us move throughout the Talol Wilds more quickly than on foot. I made a motion to jump in, but Guntram snagged me by his good arm to hold me back.
“You wielded lightning,” he accused.
I didn’t have the patience to get into this argument with him again, so I answered with a retort. “You’re welcome, Jichan.”
“Jichan” was Japanese for “Gramps.” Guntram hated when I called him that.
With an expression that could melt steel, Guntram pushed me forward into the tree, the glimmering lights of the channel overtaking me. I may have gotten the last word for now, but our conversation was far from over.
CHAPTER 2
“YOU KNOW BETTER than to go flinging around lightning like some petulant child!”
I bit my tongue as I tailed Guntram down the lodge hallway. The walls and ceiling were made of the same plank wood, a reddish brown that appeared cheery now with sunlight streaming in from the bedrooms, but it would throw shadows once lanterns illuminated the evening gloom. The floor consisted entirely of dirt, the better to soak up earth pith through bare feet. You’d think this would cause dust to cling to every surface of the building, but sigils etched throughout the lodge kept every speck in check. They couldn’t quite erase the musty smell of the place, though.
Guntram stormed to the large walk-in closet at the end of the hallway and grabbed a white robe from within. He then stalked into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door shut. I knew from experience he wasn’t done with his tirade, so I folded my arms and listened as he continued to yell at me. “Lightning is not one of Nasci’s elements.”
“And here I thought everything that occurred in nature had a link to Nasci,” I shot back. He’d heard this logic from me before and wouldn’t care, but I waited for the inevitable reply anyway.
“It does! But you cannot control lightning any more than you can control animals or people.”
“Those things have free will.” I don’t know why I bothered, other than to rile him up. “Lightning’s a part of nature, like dirt and wind, and we control those through earth and air.”
Guntram cracked the bedroom door open so he could give me his complete scowl. He kept most of his body out of sight, but I knew he was nearly naked because of his exposed shoulders. “Do you really think that a mere eyas like yourself should manipulate one of the most powerful forces of nature, something that no other shepherd, not even the Oracle, can do?”
He had a point. Eyases were newb shepherds, the lowliest of rookies. Still, I threw a glare back in return. “What did you want me to do to the cockatrice? Pat him on the horns like a little lost dog?” I made a mocking gesture of tapping on the imaginary animal’s head. “‘There, there, little guy. Run along back to Letum now.’”
Guntram slammed the door in my face. I smirked. He must have realized he didn’t have an easy answer for that.
After several more minutes of scrambling, Guntram reappeared with the robe on, his injured arm clutched inside so that the sleeve hung limply to his waist. He meant to soak in the homestead’s natural hot spring, a place where volcanic activity and water merged together to form a healing spot for Nasci’s followers. His arm would likely be back to normal in an hour or so.
That left one problem. Banishing a vaettur is fine and all, but it’s only the first of a two-step process. Vaetturs trespass into our world through a breach, and we have to close that too, or more vaetturs will sneak through.
“You want me to find the breach and seal it?” I asked as Guntram strode down the hall.
“Absolutely not,” he growled over his shoulder. “I don’t trust you not to zap it, and everything else within a mile radius, to smithereens.”
“So, who’s going to finish the job?”
Guntram didn’t bother answering my question. “Don’t leave the homestead.” Then he disappeared past a large archway toward the front of the lodge.
His proclivity for wind magic aside, Guntram was all hot air. We’d probably go seal the breach after his arm felt better. He understood better than anyone that you can’t just leave a breach open. That’s like sprinkling sugar all over a kitchen and wondering why ants decided to throw a party. Guntram just needed to cool off.
I followed Guntram into the main common area just in time to see him march outside. The homestead lodge itself, while simple, contained the basic amenities for rustic cabin living. You could study sigils at the handcrafted dining table with matching wooden chairs. You could prepare food at the slightly uneven kitchen counters or with the stone oven built into the wall. You could rummage through the crude cabinets for non-perishable dried food or generic supplies like jars, utensils, and plates. Then there were the lodge’s more surprising features. A small stone pool had been built in the center of the room with glistening water, the better to absorb water pith alongside the earthen floors. Small glassless windows in the ceiling allowed breezes for natural air pith. You could either combine all three elements to create fire pith internally or absorb it directly through the stone fireplace that heated the entire building. The lodge, like the rest of the homestead, didn’t use electricity, but it gave a shepherd a safe space to rest in relative comfort while still connected with nature. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but hey, it beat open air camping out in the woods.
Frazzled by the day’s events, I strolled out of the lodge onto the broader homestead property. Homesteads are the rest stops of shepherds. We generally live a nomadic life in the wilderness, but we come back to these small private enclosures built deep into the woods to recharge, restock necessities, and meet other shepherds. Homesteads have a lot of uses: a lodge to eat and sleep, a hot spring to heal, a library to learn sigils, a large multi-purpose barn for storage, and ample acreage of farmland to grow food. Several ponds had been dug throughout the property, and a natural creek cut through one corner. Trees huddled in groves throughout wide meadows of indigenous brush and flowers, giving the space a more forested atmosphere.
The homestead’s main focus, though, is the forge, where a blacksmith enchants all sorts of goodies for the rest of us. If shepherds are the hands of Nasci, fighting to protect her dryants and other creatures, then forgers are the heart. They support us and manipulate pith to craft badass items. There’s another, some would argue grander, homestead in the northern half of the Talol Wilds, but Sipho’s domain nestled in the Willamette Forest is always my favorite.
She maintains this homestead as solid as the rocks it’s built upon. She’s etched invisible enchantments all over the place so that normal people don’t even know we’re here. She grows an insane amount of food in her many gardens. She tinkers on the most amazing charms and weapons. Plus, she has the cutest pair of mountain lions, Nur and Kam.
You heard that right. I think Nur and Kam are squeal-inducing fluff balls. They could kill a bear with a rake of their claws, but no housecat could be more adorable than them.
As far as I could tell, Guntram and I were the only other shepherds on the property. Hearing the unmistakable sound of metal hammering, I decided to see what Sipho was cooking in the forge.
The forge building had that same extra-large log cabin veneer with wide barn doors that split into upper and lower halves. Smoke blew from the chimney on top, burning my nostrils but leaving an ironically sweet aftertaste in my mouth. I pushed open the bottom half of one door and let myself in, a hot breeze raking my cheeks.
Sipho had her back to me over an anvil, headphones on and therefore oblivious to my presence. She struck a thin piece of metal with her mallet, dark skin glistening next to the glowing forge, arms bare and muscular. She had twisted her hair into intricate braids to form a crown on her head, allowing her to focus on her work. A wall of hefty tools hung next to her: hammers of various sizes, vices, tongs, and a smattering of pitchforks and hoes. Several rounded tables made from blocks of severed tree trunks stood like a smattering of mushrooms around her. Some tables were bare while others held books, metal in various stages of completion, and smaller hand tools. An animal skin covered a hallway off to the side, leading to her living quarters. Underneath one long wooden table lay a reposing chocolate-furred Kam, who cracked her feline eyes open just long enough to confirm my identity before falling back asleep.
How could anyone sleep through that racket?
“Sipho!” I called, but the mallet kept swinging. I skirted slowly to her side, hoping to get into her periphery and not freak her out. “Hey, Sipho!”
I walked within inches of her face before she noticed me. She jerked backward with a startled ‘O’ on her lips, yanking the buds from her ears. She had half concealed her cassette Walkman in her apron before she realized who it was.
“Ina!” she cried. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“I wasn’t trying to.” And I really wasn’t. Sipho, for all her poise and grace, was always jumpy when you approached her ‘in the zone.’
“I didn’t hear you arrive. Is Guntram here too?”
“Yeah,” I drawled.
Sipho raised an eyebrow. “Did something go awry?”
“It’s me,” I slapped my collarbone. “Things always go awry.”
Sipho shook her head. “I pray you did not upset Guntram.”
“Upset Guntram? I saved his sorry butt. He should be happy to be alive and upset.”
Sipho looked like she wanted to press for more details but knew I would continue to be cagey. Instead, she smiled slyly, holding up her Walkman. “Well, since you’re here, you wouldn’t happen to have more batteries, would you?”
Ah, contraband. Sipho, and all followers of Nasci, are supposed to shun modern technology. I don’t really see the point, so I hid a few bits of tech for myself around various places. Sipho found my Walkman once and instead of destroying it, demanded to know how it operated. At the time, I had some 90s dance mix stuffed inside, so I played the music for her. The moment those tunes vibrated her ear drums, she was hooked.
“Sorry, Sipho.” I patted the empty pockets of my hoodie. “I’m fresh out of batteries, but I could go get some. I don’t have a lot to do right now.”
Sipho straightened, a paragon of Nasci virtue. “I would never ask you to do anything against Guntram’s wishes.”
Well, Guntram had ordered me to stay on the homestead. He would definitely frown upon me running off to pick up modern amenities against shepherd code, especially right after I wielded lightning pith in front of that dopey park ranger.
But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. For now, he remained stuck in the hot spring with his gimpy arm.
“I’m sure he won’t care,” I lied.
“In that case, use this.” Sipho snatched a drawstring pouch on a shelf next to her and gave it to me.
I rubbed the rough fabric with my fingers. Sipho had clearly handstitched the pouch. Several V patterns along the hems indicated she’d woven water sigils directly into the cloth. I recognized its purpose immediately since I’d used a similar bag to store food before.
“A watertight pouch?” I asked.
“Better than that,” Sipho grinned. “I took care to triple stitch this one, so not a single drop of water should seep through. Remember what happened the last time you took an ocean swim with my batteries?”
I gave her a sheepish grin. “I do remember. I’ll be more careful this time, I promise. No more wet batteries.”
Sipho didn’t look too convinced as I waved goodbye, but she didn’t argue. Girl needed her music fix, and I was the only dealer available.
CHAPTER 3
I DIDN’T EXPECT to be gone long, which is always the first sign that you’re in trouble.
I’m fairly familiar with all the wisp channels within a five-mile radius of the homestead, but tree teleportation ain’t fast. Tree A always goes to Tree B, and vice versa. Therefore, to get anywhere, you often have to take a zigzag course, with lots of walking in between channels. I went from Tree A to Tree B, walked two miles, took Tree F to Tree G, walked another half mile, then found Tree J, etc. I ended up meandering a good five miles around the valley floor before I even made it back to the coast.
Really, if this had just been about batteries, I could have been out and back in a half hour. There’s a convenience store not too far from the homestead. But I was still miffed that Guntram hadn’t let me go seal the stupid vaettur breach, so I took a long detour to blow off some steam. I ended up in the bustling town of Mapleton, Oregon, population: not a whole lot. It’s one of those places whose only real purpose is to support the road that gets you somewhere else. Also, it has a decent gingerbread-themed restaurant if you can catch it when it’s open. Currently, it was for sale.
Not only do I hide goodies all over Sipho’s homestead, I also stash contraband across the Talol Wilds. Personally, I wish I could just rent a storage locker, but since I never know where I’ll be stationed, it’s better to hoard bits in several places, where I can access them at any time.
At the bottom of a mountain at the edge of Mapleton is a farm property with a dilapidated shed not too far from the trees. It has a turquoise roof that somehow retains its shine despite its age. The geezer who lives in the house thinks he’s safe from outsiders because he has a nasty, barking dog who loses his mind when anyone gets close.
Anyone except a shepherd, of course.
It’s a perk of the job. Animals recognize that we protect dryants, and therefore animals in general, so we have instant street cred. When the hermit’s slobbery bullmastiff mix caught a whiff of my scent, instead of dashing for my throat, he trotted over for a pat on his head. I scratched him between the ears and then found a suitable stick. I threw the stick as hard as I could, drawing a sideways ‘S’ in its wake to form a wind gust to carry it farther across the field. The mutt dashed after it, lips pulled back from his muzzle from the sheer joy of the chase. I used the diversion to head for my target.
Inside, the shed smelled like gasoline from a huge drum. Spiders crawled everywhere, protected by disuse. It’s not my favorite hangout, but its ambiance helps protect my hoard: a satchel shoved high on a wooden shelf in between cans of paint manufactured before I was born. Sipho enchanted the satchel to remain free of dirt, grime, and whatever else hung in the air. I opened it and grabbed a wad of cash, a credit card, and a burner phone.
Ready for civilization, baby!
Okay, so the cash and phone are plausible, but maybe the card seems a little far-fetched. How does a drifter lik
e me have access to lines of credit? The truth is, the card’s co-signed between me and my parents. Unlike most other followers of Nasci, who were discovered as children or teens from broken homes or had lost all their family, I’m the product of stable Seattle suburbia. My parents—an economics professor and retail chain store manager—had high hopes for me in college. By sophomore year, those hopes had shattered as I bottomed out of the university. Fortunately, around the same time, I found out I had ken. Guntram took me on as an eyas, and the rest, as they say, is history. Thankfully the universe took care of my utter lack of career preparedness.
But I can’t tell my parents any of this. They think I joined some hippie commune and I’m living the wild and free life here in Oregon. I don’t really disavow them of that notion because in some sense it’s true. It’s also a convenient cover for my real work of saving spirits of Nasci and blowing up vaetturs so the world can keep spinning on its axis for a bit longer.
Man, that last sentence would just blow my parents’ middle-class minds if they knew.
Anyhow, my parents being good folks—if somewhat disappointed in their rebel daughter—keep several credit cards open for me “in case of emergencies.” I use it to get cash advances and purchase stuff with it. I never abuse this power. My purchases are mostly comfort food and amenities that most Nasci followers would frown upon. Plus, it makes my parents breathe easier believing I won’t starve to death living the patchouli life. Win-win for everyone.
And I’m not an ungrateful mooch. I call them up now and again to check in. With that in mind, I sneaked away from the hermit’s property and clamored through the overgrowth of the forest to the top of the mountain, where I received barely a bar of reception on the burner phone. I dialed my parents’ landline (so old school!) and waited as it connected.