Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  She sat open-mouthed, wondering what to say, how to react to the admission he’d found her just as her family had perished. Could it be possible he was the sole reason she’d survived the car-wreck? Mere coincidence, surely. But the Dayamari held their beliefs tightly to their hearts, nurturing them. The more she professed disbelief, the more she protested, the more tightly they would cling to those beliefs. But truly, gods? Out-of-body journeys to other worlds?

  “I do not believe in your gods,” she blurted. She heard gasps and straightened her shoulders, meeting their shock full on. “There are many gods in my world, and many who worship them. I am not one of them. I believe you have powers, Dayamar. And I am told my eyes have changed color.” She threw up a hand to forestall protests. “I cannot see for myself so I must believe what you tell me. Maybe it is magic. I do not know for certain. I cannot deny that I have visions and yes, I am forced to believe I now have what you call magic, too. But as for gods? No.” She shook her head. “There are no gods.”

  Dayamar refused to give up. “You have been chosen by our gods. Why else did your vision show you the wolf, owl and snake? You have Seen our gods. They have touched your life. You have changed, adapted to our land. If you had not, eventually you would have sickened and perhaps died. You had difficulty breathing when you first arrived here, yes?”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “That was because our air differs from the air of your home-world. But you have healed the damage it caused you.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “The gods have gifted you with self-healing, Hope. The scrape on your face no longer bleeds because it has healed. As has the lump on your head. Ask Blayne if you don’t believe me.”

  She probed her face and head with her fingertips. She felt no pain. Still doubtful, she turned to Blayne.

  He examined her, running his fingertips over her cheek and scalp. “It’s true, Hope. There’s no sign of either injury now.” She heard the awe in his voice, knew he wasn’t lying.

  “Perhaps your healing skills are just very good, Blayne. Or perhaps you have magic, too.”

  “I don’t. And this rate of healing can’t be attributed to my healing skills,” he said.

  “If I can heal myself, then why can I not see?” There. Let him explain that away.

  “But you can, Hope. You’re a Sehan. You do not need eyes to See.” Dayamar’s gentle tone was little consolation for the turmoil he’d caused. “Soon, in your mind’s eye, you will be able to see the life-energy given off by all living things. And when you fully accept what you are your blindness will be irrelevant.”

  She grit her teeth. The old man had an answer for everything. “All right, I give up. I am here and I have no way to return home. I will try to help you.” The collective sigh from the group only added to her burdens. And she had the distinct impression Dayamar knew her true feelings but the canny old man didn’t press her further. Instead, he began to talk about her daily training schedule—namely spending all available daylight hours at the Sehani Hall learning how to be a “proper” Sehan.

  Blayne shifted restlessly beside her. She guessed he was about as impressed as she was by this schedule. To her relief he spoke up. Citing the need to teach her basic cooking, healing and herb-lore, he insisted she be back home by late afternoon each day. Despite Dayamar pressing him to give in, he refused to back down.

  The two argued back and forth, with Maya stirring the pot by tossing in her opinions. Even Varaya spoke her piece, volunteering to be Hope’s guide and show her around the settlement whenever Blayne was busy with his healing duties.

  Hope felt like a pie that everyone wanted a piece of—a commodity—and although she greatly appreciated Blayne’s support, events were spiraling out of control. Everything was being arranged around her, leaving her feeling powerless. She hadn’t felt that way since the aftermath of the accident that had blinded her. And she didn’t like it one bit.

  She took advantage of a lull in the conversation to speak her mind. “Enough! In my world, I am alone. I do what I want, when I want. I decide for me. I will try my best to learn what I must, but if I cannot—if I am incapable—then Dayamar must send me home.”

  She turned to Blayne, desperate to explain how she felt and why. “Please believe I want stay with you. But if I cannot learn a Sehan’s ways, Dayamar must send me back and find another Sehan to take my place.”

  Dayamar spoke before Blayne had a chance to answer. “Fair enough. Give me six months to teach you what you must learn, Hope. If I’ve not succeeded by then, I will do my utmost to help you return home. Agreed?”

  She sagged with relief. A reprieve. Six months was a long time. Anything could happen in six months. “Agreed.”

  Dayamar also hid his relief. His visions haunted him, becoming more urgent with each passing day. And this young woman who refused to believe in gods or her own abilities was the only hope for his people. She was a catalyst. She’d already profoundly affected Blayne, Varaya and Willem. No matter how narrow her core beliefs, no matter how she doubted her own abilities, she was coming into her powers. Nothing could halt that process.

  She’d soon be a force to be reckoned with, the most potent Seer in Dayamari history—he’d Seen this. But would it be soon enough to save his people?

  That, he had not foreseen.

  Chapter Eight

  Cayl entered the room in a rush. “What have I missed?”

  Hope bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting a sarcastic comment that might worsen the situation. The tension she sensed centered around Maya. Did Maya expect Dayamar to take some action, perhaps reprimand her for being contentious? Was he truly that strict and unforgiving?

  But Dayamar only said, “Nothing important,” and asked after Willem.

  It transpired Willem had suffered nothing more serious than an aching head and contusions. When Cayl had pressed him for the truth of the encounter he readily confessed. “He pleaded to be allowed to make whatever restitution Hope deemed fit,” Cayl told them.

  “I do not care about restitution,” she said. “I only care that he will recover.” Please, God, she hadn’t caused him any lasting damage.

  “His injuries were minor. He’s fine. Which is far more than he deserves.”

  “Can Dorian be relied on to keep his mouth shut?” Blayne asked. “The last thing we need is rumors Hope’s not in control of her powers.”

  “Dorian’s never been the brightest star in the sky,” Cayl said. “And right now he’s a gibbering mess. I’ve, ah, convinced him no one will believe his tale and it’s in his best interests to stay quiet.”

  “Good.”

  The two men seemed to share a moment. Hope figured it must be a male thing.

  “So, Hope,” Cayl said. “Shall we have the elders turf Willem out, or have you thought of something infinitely more fitting to torture him with?”

  She did her best to quell him with a frown. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Willem and I also have things to… discuss.” That slight pause combined with Blayne’s darkly dangerous tone were ominous. Hope shivered. She didn’t need to be a Sehan to sense retribution was uppermost in his mind.

  “Blayne, I know you are angry but this is for me to solve. Willem hurt me, not you.”

  “You must let Hope deal with this in her own way,” Dayamar said. “I’m sure her next encounter with Willem will bring surprising results.”

  A telling silence ensued. Another “moment” was obviously being shared. She pictured this one resulting in Blayne reluctantly subsiding under the weight of the old Sehan’s considerable will.

  “We should leave Maya and Cayl in peace,” Dayamar finally said. “They have a lot to arrange before Janus is buried tomorrow.”

  “I’m not very skilled but I’d like to help you with preparations, Maya,” Varaya said.

  Hope guessed the offer was uncharacteristic when Maya’s response came a few beats too late for politeness. “Thanks, Varaya, I’d appreciate that
. Gods know, with a gathering this size the more the merrier.” She bustled off somewhere with Varaya in tow.

  Hope mentally crossed her fingers Blayne would react as she expected. “I want to talk with Willem. Will you take me to him, Dayamar?”

  “I’ll take you,” Blayne said, just as she’d hoped. Willem might quail at the sight of Blayne, but she suspected he’d die of fright if Dayamar showed his face. And then she wouldn’t have a chance to act upon what she’d Seen and make this right.

  ~~~

  Willem glanced up as the healer on duty jumped to attention. “Greetings, Sehan Hope,” the healer said. “I trust you’re recovered?”

  His guts knotted. It was her, the woman he’d assaulted. He strangled his blanket with anxious fingers. He’d heard enough talk to know not everyone believed she was truly Sehani. But by Shikari’s furry wolf-hide he believed. He’d felt her power grab him by the throat and toss him aside as though he were feather-light. He’d been pinned to the ground, unable to move, incapable of doing anything other than struggle to breathe. And he’d willingly embraced oblivion when she’d cut him loose from the tethers binding him to her. In the split second before he blacked out he’d prayed this would be an end—that he would not regain consciousness. But, as with all his hopes and dreams, that fervent prayer had come to nothing.

  A glance at Blayne’s set, angry features, and Willem believed one more thing. Very shortly his life was going to be even less worth living than usual. Even if the pretty little Sehan by some miracle did find it in her heart to forgive him, the Panakeya never would.

  “Hello, Johan,” the little Sehan said to the healer. “Yes, I feel good. Thank you.”

  She sounded absentminded as she scanned the room, searching for something with those unearthly golden eyes. When they slid past him, he released the breath he’d been holding. Then her gaze stilled, and jerked back, fixing on him, penetrating the walls he’d built around his heart and his soul. He choked on bile and shrank back against the sleeping platform. But there was nowhere to hide.

  “May I talk to him?” she asked.

  “Of course,” the healer said. And, damn the man, led her straight to where he lay helpless.

  The concern shining in those golden eyes surprised him. He wondered what she’d been told of his injuries. They were nothing—a pounding headache, scrapes and bruises. He wouldn’t even be here if Cayl hadn’t threatened to tie him to the bed. He watched the sway of her hips as she came closer. Through sober eyes she was more than merely pretty. She was beautiful… and so very young. Somehow that made what he’d done to her even worse. And in the gloomy room her eyes seemed to glow and her femininity became tainted by what she was. Sehani. He shuddered. Best he remember that.

  “Sehan Hope, I—” He choked on his shame. He was pathetic, worthless. He deserved whatever punishment she deemed fit.

  “Give me your hand, Willem,” she said.

  It didn’t occur to him to disobey. He pushed himself to a seated position, wincing at the soreness of his muscles. The hand he held out to her shook and his gaze flicked to Blayne, expecting a sneer. But the man gave him shuttered eyes and a blank face.

  Willem scrunched his eyelids tightly shut, waiting for fate in the guise of a beautiful woman to deal him a final blow. Ironic. He’d always been a sucker for beauty. Her small soft hand clasped his and—

  Nothing happened.

  “Do you have something to tell me?” she murmured.

  He pried open his eyelids and was surprised to find her kneeling beside his bed. “Eh?”

  “What do you need to tell me?”

  He choked down the lump in his throat and struggled for the right words. “Uh, I want— I want to apologize for my behavior. I was wrong to force my attentions on you.” Over her head he glanced at Blayne again, and this time glimpsed the sneer he’d expected. Blayne didn’t believe a word. But it didn’t matter what he thought. Only the little Sehan mattered.

  Willem sat up straighter and dared look her right in the eye. “I’d been drinking, but that does not excuse my behavior. I promise to never bother a woman again without her permission. I will do whatever you want. I will never touch a drink again, only please, Sehan Hope—” His voice broke, compounding his shame. “Please, don’t let the elders send me away.”

  Blayne snorted. “He’s promised to change his ways many times. But get a few drinks inside him and he always forgets his promises. There’s no place for in the settlement for a man like him.”

  The healer nodded, agreeing. Willem’s heart sank to his toes. Both men were well-respected members of the settlement. They would petition for his banishment. And, gods knew, the little Sehan had every reason to support them.

  “You do not know him,” she said, and it took Willem a moment to realize she referred to him. “I joined with his mind. I saw his past. I know him now.”

  He was again the focus of that unrelenting golden gaze. “I did not mean to hurt you,” she said. “I am only scared and want you to go away. I do not know what I did, or how. I am very sorry.”

  She was apologizing? To him?

  Blayne’s clenched fists and narrowed gaze proclaimed his outrage. “You have nothing to apologize for, Hope. Willem attacked you. He deserved what he got.”

  Willem recovered enough to say, “Panakeya Blayne is right, Sehan Hope. It’s me who needs to apologize.”

  Those unearthly eyes bored into him, winnowing through his darkest secrets and making them hers. “I know about when you are a boy,” she said. “I understand your pain and your fears. Your mother—she is ill, I think—not right in her head. It is not your fault she is like that.”

  She spoke with such compassion he couldn’t help but believe she understood the terrible self-loathing he harbored. Hope flared anew, warming the cold emptiness that had lain curled around his heart for so long.

  “But that is in the past,” she said. “Now you can choose a new path—if you have courage enough to take the first step. I know you want to change. I will forget what happened and no one will speak of it again. We will start anew.” She shook the hand she still held. “Hello, I am Hope. I am pleased to meet you.”

  How could she know about his mother? He sat there, open-mouthed, overawed and more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. He scrubbed his face with his spare hand to hide the tears burning his eyes. “Hello, my name is Willem,” he finally managed to whisper. “I’m pleased to meet you, Sehan Hope.”

  She squeezed his hand. “One thing more.”

  “Yes, yes of course. Anything.”

  “You will not drink alcohol again.” Her eyes gleamed so brightly it was like gazing into a midday sun. The dazzling golden nimbus wreathing her body expanded to encompass him, too. A blaze of heat seared through his bones and his internal organs. He screamed but the sound was swallowed by the light. His muscles jerked and twitched, and then stiffened. The light dissipated, and he flopped back onto the sleeping platform, gasping like a landed fish, his gaze still fixed on her serene face.

  She released his hand and clumsily rose to make her way back to Blayne’s side.

  “What did you do to him?” The Panakeya didn’t sound as if he really wanted to know the answer. For Willem, though, it was the opposite. He hoped she would say the light and the heat of her power had cleansed him, burned away everything he’d become, everything he despised about himself. He hoped he’d been reborn.

  “I am not sure,” she admitted, much to his surprise because he’d been brought up to believe Sehani knew everything.

  “But I do know he does not need to drink now. The desire is gone.” She turned back to Willem with a narrowed gaze that made him flinch. It blanked momentarily, as if she looked inward. A blink and she was back in the here and now, nibbling her lower lip and staring at him in that disconcerting way she had.

  “D-do you have a question for me, Sehan?” Gods save him. What else did she have in store for him?

  “Please, what do you look like?”


  “Huh? I mean, I beg your pardon?”

  “What do you look like? You know, hair, eyes and such. How tall—things like that.”

  “I have blond hair and brown eyes. Uh, I’m a little over six feet.”

  “Are you handsome?”

  Willem shrugged helplessly, his face heating at her ingenuous question. “Uh, I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Johan, tell me, please. Is he a good-looking man?”

  The healer grimaced and rolled his eyes in a “Why me?” gesture. “I guess,” he muttered.

  “Why do you ask?” Blayne’s scowl was so fierce Willem might have found the situation amusing if he hadn’t been so damned intimidated.

  “In a minute.” She was still frowning at him like… like… like a healer viewing an interesting specimen. “Willem, what is wrong with your hand? The skin felt strange.”

  “What you felt is scarring from a burn I received as a child,” he said. The muscles of his hand convulsed and he fisted it tightly, vividly recalling his mother’s derision when he’d burned himself. She’d been too drunk to attend to him properly, and the scarring had been much worse without the proper treatment. Even now, years later, the skin on his wrist and palm was seamed and puckered. Even now he heard her jeers in his dreams.

  “Aha! I am right.” She beamed at him and hugged her middle.

  “About what?” Blayne asked.

  She tilted her chin at the Panakeya and fingered her earrings. “Do you remember the Seeing I had?”

  Blayne’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered.

  “It is true.” Her voice brimmed with suppressed mirth. “But we will say no more of it. Willem must discover her for himself.”

  “You had a Seeing about me?” Wonders would never cease. “What did you See?”

  “I see good things for you, Willem. You will be happy. That is all I say.” She punctuated her declaration with a yawn. “I apologize for my rudeness. It has been a long day for me.” She reached a hand toward Blayne. “Can we go home? And eat too, maybe?”