by Tamie Dearen
“So my mother died?” Alora hated the quaver in her voice. Her uncle held out his hand again, and this time she grasped it tightly. He squeezed her fingers and lifted her hand to kiss the back of it before he continued.
“No, she didn’t die. At least, she was alive the last time we saw her. You see, I don’t really know what happened to her. This is where it gets even more crazy sounding. She was weak, and she couldn’t lift her head. But her eyes were looking everywhere, like she was worried someone was after her. Her voice was so faint we had to lean close to hear her. She rambled on and on. She told us her name was Wendelle, and then she told us never to repeat it.”
Charles stopped his discourse, staring at Alora like he was seeing a ghost. “You look just like her, except for her eyes. Her eyes were the deepest green I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Green—like the boy in the vision. Maybe the boy was her brother. Her heart clenched. For some reason, she didn’t want to be related to the boy she’d seen.
Charles squeezed her hand. “She begged us to take her baby and keep her safe. We tried to reason with her and tell her we’d get her to a hospital, but she said she was dying and only had a few minutes.”
“And then she left me?” Alora closed her eyes tight as her stomach churned.
“No, she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yep. Poof—she was gone. Just like that.” Charles took another swig of coffee while she ruminated.
“Okay...” It can’t be true; it’s too crazy. How can I believe my real mother appeared with baby-me in Yellowstone National Park, dropped me off with Uncle Charles and Aunt Lena, and evaporated into thin air? Maybe Uncle Charles is getting senile. He’s in his fifties; that’s pretty old. That must be it. He’s confused.
“Okay? Are you angry with me and Aunt Lena for keeping this a secret all these years?” He screwed up his face, cringing as if she were going to yell at him.
She hesitated, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “To tell you the truth, it all sounds a bit far-fetched.”
“You mean, you don’t believe me?”
“Not exactly. You seem really sincere, and you don’t make a habit of lying to me. But I’m thinking maybe you were just imagining things.”
“Like you imagined that boy in your bathroom just now?”
“No, he was real. I promise.” If he was real, maybe this story is real, too.
Deep wrinkles creased his forehead as Charles swirled the coffee in his cup, staring at it like the answers lay inside the pungent black liquid. “Maybe I spoke too soon. Maybe you won’t believe me until you turn sixteen. Let’s forget I said anything.”
“I can’t really forget what you said.”
“Don’t think about it. I made it all up. Your real mother was your Aunt Lena’s little sister, who was killed in a car accident. You have her picture on your dresser.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t go back to the old story, now. And come to think of it, I don’t really look like Aunt Lena’s sister. Or did she even have a sister? I don’t know what to believe any more.” I’ve stared at that picture day after day for hours, imagining what she might have been like. I can’t believe she might not really be my mother.
Uncle Charles set his coffee cup down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, groaning into his hands. “I knew I was going to screw this up. I can’t do it without Lena. I never thought I’d have to explain without her helping me.”
“Just tell me the truth. The whole truth. I’ve got to know.”
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know how to convince you, but everything I told you a few minutes ago is true.”
“Okay... okay...” She tried to find the flaws in his crazy story. “How did you explain me to your friends? And I have a birth certificate—I’ve seen it.”
“When we came back with you, we told everyone you were Lena’s niece. She really did have a little sister named Jenny who was killed in an accident with a drunk driver. No one out here knew any of Lena’s family, so no one questioned anything we said. We got Dr. Sanders and Sheriff Mason to help us get you a birth certificate. They risked their careers by doing it.”
“Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you just report a missing baby to the authorities?”
“Your mother was terrified of your father. She said he’d raped her and held her prisoner until she’d had the baby, and now he was trying to take the baby away from her. We were convinced he’d kill you if he could find you. We thought he might be a drug dealer or a gang leader or something. We didn’t tell Dr. Sanders and Sherriff Mason the whole story, but we said your mother was hiding her baby from the man who’d raped and stabbed her. We all waited and watched for a report of a missing baby, but nothing ever came through.”
“And my jewel? You told me my mother had it put in when I was a baby, so I would remember her.” Without thinking, her hand snaked up to probe the small belly button stone through her shirt.
“Dr. Sanders looked at it.” Charles shrugged. “He couldn’t really tell how it was put in—it was like it was connected internally. And your mother asked us to leave it, so we did.”
It was unbelievable, but it had a ring of truth. Who am I?
“Please don’t cry, Alora. I’m so sorry. We never meant to hurt you; we were only trying to protect you.”
Alora touched her face with her fingers, surprised to find her face was wet. I don’t feel hurt... I feel lost.
“Why didn’t you tell me before? Why now?” She asked the question of Uncle Charles, but kept her eyes glued to her hands in her lap.
“Your mom gave us two warnings before she disappeared: don’t try to take the jewel out of your navel, and don’t tell you the true story until your sixteenth birthday.” He pushed his hands through his short burred hair. “When I heard your imaginary boy had spoken your mother’s name, it was like seeing a ghost. I guess I should’ve kept my mouth shut and waited until you turned sixteen.”
“No, I’m glad you told me.” Her voice sounded as cold and flat as she felt. It was just too much to process all at once.
“I’ve thought about this for fifteen years, and I’m no closer to understanding it.” He took both her hands in his, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “The only thing I understand is you’re special. Very special. I love you, and I hope you can forgive me—forgive us—for lying to you.”
She glanced up to his red-rimmed, pleading eyes, and the ice melted from her heart. She lunged into his lap and hugged his neck, wetting his shirt with her tears. She was warm and safe in her uncle’s arms. Maybe she could stay out on the ranch and ignore everything that had happened. She could simply pretend she was a normal fifteen-year-old girl. A fifteen-year-old girl with a jewel in her belly button and an occasional handsome male visitor to her bathroom.
*****
Kaevin’s knees were shaking. Why was he so nervous? He hadn’t done anything wrong—he was simply telling his story to a group of men and women who’d watched him grow up his entire life. But he felt like he was being sized up as the future clan leader, even though he was thirteen years away from taking that position unless his father died prematurely. He glanced around the circle, trying to judge the mood of the members.
Laethan, the chief healer, was sitting calmly with his eyes closed. He was probably meditating, although he almost appeared to be sleeping. With the rash of illness that had been spreading through the clan, claiming the lives of the very young and the very old, he might be exhausted enough to have fallen asleep sitting up. He didn’t move or flinch even when Graely began to address the council.
“My son is here to give testimony of an experience which could be immensely important to our future in Stone Clan. I was dubious when I first heard the tale, but after questioning both Kaevin and his friend Jireo, I’ve come to believe him. I’ll let you judge for yourselves when you hear him speak.”
Darielle was listening intently to the clan lead
er’s introduction, subconsciously testing the edge of her knife on a piece of grass. In the past, council members had left their weapons at the door during called meetings. But a surprise attack from Water Clan during one fateful assembly had ended the tradition. Two council members were killed during that assault, including Darielle’s father. As a result, she was the youngest council member, only twenty-six years of age and already chief of farsight. The other council member who died along with Darielle’s father was Valor, chief of discernment. The loss was devastating, as there was no other Stone clansman with the gift. They could only pray a child would be born to someday take the empty council position.
“Perhaps you should hurry.” Darielle spoke in a light voice. She looked pointedly toward Laethan’s unmoving form. “It seems some of our older council members may be hard put to stay awake for the proceedings.” The laughter of the other council members did nothing to rouse Laethan. Graely smiled, leaving him undisturbed.
“I will take your advice, Darielle, and let my son speak without further preamble.”
Wiping his perspiring palms on his leather breeches, Kaevin made his way to the center of the circle.
His father patted him on the back. “Simply tell the story, from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
Kaevin cleared his throat. “Well, I... uhmm.... A few weeks ago I started seeing visions. I could only see a girl’s face—her head—with water flowing over it, like a small waterfall.”
“What color were her eyes?” asked Chaleah. The chief judge sat forward, narrowing her eyes as she concentrated on Kaevin’s response. Her gift included detecting truth and falsehood, and she watched closely to assure the accuracy of Kaevin’s report.
“Her eyes were always closed during the visions. She disappeared every time she opened her eyes. The visions came on seven different occasions. And the last time it happened, Jireo was with me.”
“And you’ve never seen this girl before? Perhaps you met her at one of the clan gatherings?” Chaleah suggested.
“No, I don’t remember seeing her.”
Darielle sat forward. “If you describe her, I might be able to draw a sketch. We can see if anyone recognizes her.”
“Go on with the story, Kaevin,” Graely interrupted. “This is the unbelievable part.”
He swallowed hard, noting his tongue seemed to be sticking to his teeth. “Yesterday, shortly after I had a vision, something different happened. I was transported to her.”
The council members let out a collective gasp, followed by exclamations and arguments.
“How do you know you actually traveled?” asked Raelene, the oldest council member.
Kaevin tried in vain to meet her eyes, uncomfortably aware how strongly she would be affected by his story. After all, Wendelle had been her only daughter. Her official title was bearer, although her stone no longer held a spark. As an active bearer for thirty-five years, she still had valuable knowledge and wisdom to give, but the clan was crippled without a true bearer.
Kaevin remembered the story of Wendelle’s kidnapping and subsequent death, told almost as legend in the clan as a warning against complacency. Even in the face of Raelene’s obvious disbelief, Kaevin knew he must share his story. He might have been convinced the experience with the girl was entirely his imagination but for the testimony of his best friend.
“Jireo was there. I disappeared right before him. And I could see everything, feel the stone under my feet.”
More discussion from the council was peppered with questions. Morvaen made his voice heard above the others. “Where did you go? And what did you see? How long were you gone?” The robust weapons master paced in his usual manner, always seeming to have an overabundance of energy.
“I don’t know where I was. It was a very strange room, almost entirely covered in some kind of smooth polished stone.”
“An entire room of polished stone? But you didn’t recognize the stone?” Nordamen questioned, flinching as Morvaen bumped his chair with the scabbard of his sword. The weapons master apologized, but Nordamen quickly turned his attention back to Kaevin. “Was it opaque or translucent?” The chief shaman inclined his head awaiting the answer, obviously excited about the possibilities of power in the stone-covered room. His responsibilities included recognizing and training each clan member’s gifts. Beside him, although technically not a council member, sat his son, Bardamen. He was only a year from the age of thirty, when he would take his father’s place as chief.
“It was opaque—”
“Never mind that,” Morvaen interrupted. “Tell us about the girl.”
Kaevin concentrated on stilling his trembling knees as he spoke. “She was.... She was lying in a basin full of water with her eyes closed, at first.”
“She was breathing under water?” asked Nordamen. “That sounds like a gift of Water Clan.”
“No,” Kaevin bit back, clenching his fists. His face burned in shame at his lack of control. “I apologize—I didn’t mean to speak harshly. But I was trying to explain that her face was floating. She was breathing air, like you and me. And the basin holding the water was made of stone.”
“But she was in the water,” Nordamen protested.
“Let him finish,” Morvaen said. “Please proceed, Kaevin. Tell us what happened.”
He unfurled his fists, glancing back at his father who nodded assurance. “This last time, when she opened her eyes, she didn’t disappear. Her eyes were... I don’t know how to describe them.... They were different, not quite blue and not quite green. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“If her eyes weren’t green or brown, we should consider them blue,” said Nordamen. “And she was in the water—she must be of Water Clan.”
“No!” Kaevin didn’t realize he’d shouted until a startled hush fell over the council members. “Again, I’m sorry, but please let me explain. She wasn’t evil. She never felt evil during the visions, and when I was with her, the air was clear. There was no sense of evil at all.”
“But you are young,” said Nordamen. “Your gift is not fully developed. Perhaps her evil was masked somehow.”
“I have seventeen years, and my gift is stronger than you realize. I am quite certain she wasn’t evil.” He lifted his voice over the council members’ murmurings. “I haven’t told you the most important part. ... She had a wander-jewel. I saw it spark before it sent me back.”
“That’s impossible!” exclaimed Raelene. “We know of no clan with an active bearer. Or even a bearer who hasn’t come of age. Wendelle was the last. We’ve been praying, but none have come.”
“Then she must come from a clan we don’t know,” Kaevin argued. “There’s no other explanation.”
“How did you see the jewel?” Raelene crossed her arms. “A true bearer never leaves the jewel exposed.”
“She was bathing.” Kaevin attempted to hide his discomfort by pacing. “I think perhaps she’s just come of age, and she’s untrained. She didn’t seem to know what she was doing, and she screamed when she realized I was there. That’s when I saw the jewel spark, and I returned to where Jireo was waiting.”
“It’s possible.” Nordamen tapped a long slender finger against his chin. “A true innocent with no idea of her gift might accidentally transport someone.” He leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “But why would she transport Kaevin? Raelene, can you transport someone you’ve never met?”
“Honestly, I can only say I’ve never heard of it before. I’ve never known anyone who would try such a thing. If this girl is truly unaware of her gift, we’ve got to find her and train her before she hurts herself or someone else.”
“Yes, and before Vindrake or anyone in Water Clan finds her. Imagine the disaster that could result if he could control a bearer.” Morvane’s eyes grew wide, realizing the impact of his words. He glanced at Raelene’s drooping head. “I apologize, Raelene. That was unthinking for me to remind you of your loss.”
“No, your words are only the t
ruth. We all know Vindrake would stop at nothing in his attempt to attain a bearer of his own.” She blinked hard, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“These thoughts mirror my own.” Graely strode to the room’s center. “I feel we need to formulate a plan to search for this girl. I want Kaevin to describe her to Darielle, as she suggested. If we had a drawing, we might be able to locate her. Perhaps she is close by, but no one is aware of the jewel—a foundling or an orphan from one of the wars. And Kaevin, I want you to talk to Raelene. Describe the stone in detail to ensure what you saw was truly a wander-jewel.”
Kaevin’s jaw tensed and he opened his mouth to object, but Graely held up his hand. “I know you don’t believe there’s any other alternative; however, we must be certain. And if the girl is truly a bearer, you must be prepared to help her should she transport you again.”
Laethan finally opened his eyes and spoke. Kaevin supposed this proved he’d been listening rather than sleeping. “I need to speak with Kaevin about possible illnesses she could have. Any illness will worsen in transport, so I assume the plague is no different. If she’s sick, she must not be allowed to travel by the stone. And we must keep Kaevin from possible exposure to plague when he could be transported against his will at any time.”
“The rest of us will devise a plan to search for the girl.” Graely grimaced. “We must work together with all the other clans throughout Tenavae. They will assume we mean to claim her since Kaevin discovered her, but she belongs to whatever clan she lives with.”
Kaevin felt his chest tighten. “But what if she wishes to come with me? Perhaps that’s the reason she transported me.”
“You’re far too young to marry.”
“I didn’t say anything about marriage.” He ducked his head to hide his burning face. “But she might be afraid. Perhaps she would feel more comfortable with our clan.”