In the midst of her confusion and trouble, with her worries roosting around her like crows, Sparrow still fell deep into sleep by her sweetheart’s side, knowing they would face it all together in the morning.
• • •
Trouble always looks less scary by daylight. It looks even more manageable after getting served breakfast in bed by a thoughtful, clever hertasi who enjoyed baking.
:Scones!: Rork announced from the doorway to the bedroom. :Scones and hot tea coming in! Good morning!:
He made Sparrow laugh every day of her life. He announced his scones like the coming of the Queen.
The door swung slowly open. “Good morning, dear sir,” Sparrow said.
She was awake, and Tis was nursing, tucked in among the pillows. Cloudbrother was awake, in a sense, but tranced, soaring through the clouds of his mind. He would not be interested in breakfast . . . Sparrow knew he floated far away, searching for patterns, clues in how to solve the puzzle of his mission and of the reality of Tis.
:You are rosy and refreshed, my dear child. Your heartmate does wonders for your looks!:
Sparrow tried not to laugh. She knew she looked a fright; hair tangled into a nest, half asleep, frowzy in the bed. But she understood what Rork meant. She looked happy and rested.
The turmoil underneath still clung to her ankles, pulling her down. But now she had the counterweight of Cloudbrother here once again, lifting her up.
Rork advanced from the doorway, his tail held high, his eyes glittering as he carefully placed the carved rosewood tray heaped with scones across her lap. :I made lingonberry, your favorite. Spiced with cinnamon and beer-root for your health, little mother.:
“They’re still warm,” she said with delight. “No more talking, I’m going in.” And she did, having perfected the art of holding Tis one-armed and doing any manner of work with the other as she held him.
The scones were perfect, of course, rich and buttery and light, the beer-root sharp and sweet at the same time. She ate two without speaking, washing them down with warm, milky tea.
“Thank you so very much,” she said a while later.
:My pleasure, my dear,: Rork replied.
Her gratitude ran to so much more than the scones. Rork had tended to Sparrow’s every need from the moment Cloudbrother had left for Haven, and he had only heaped more loving care on her since her heartmate had returned.
“Can I do anything for you, dear Rork? Anything at all?”
:Why, yes. Eat another scone. Quick, try the lingonberry! Before they get all cold and vile,: he replied, his tone so dry that this time Sparrow did laugh out loud.
She gratefully obeyed his command and demolished the plate of scones and drained the daintily painted pot-bellied teapot dry.
Once she was done, she looked across the room to where her friend waited, his amber eyes bright and clear. “We’re leaving very soon, you know.”
His gaze faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. :Oh, you Valdemarans,: he said, his voice light. :So restless, so like the gryphons’ flight. High flyers so quick to dart into the sky. But like the gryphons, you will always return, my dear. Because you know you are so dear to me.:
Even his endearments and unspoken dismay made her smile. “You flatter me shamelessly, Rork, but I’m no gryphon. I’m a little gray sparrow, and I dart in the dust and the underbrush, right near the front door. No great ballads will ever be sung for me. And I don’t care.”
Rork’s wide mouth tipped open, and his iridescent cheek scales sparkled in the morning sunlight streaming in through the half-open window near her bed. The hertasi’s toothy grimace of a smile would have frightened Sparrow’s mother, and maybe even her father, but his reptilian face was dear to her now. She had no fear of him and his profound and homely magic.
:The world needs gryphons, it needs hertasi, and it needs sparrows too,: Rork said.
Tucked safe in her bed, filled with Rork’s scones and tea, his words Spoken in her mind echoed and sang like chimes. “You’ve got something there, my friend,” Sparrow said in growing wonder. “I think you’ve solved a puzzle that’s been troubling me sorely.”
:It isn’t me, but the power of the scones,: Rork replied. :Scones and sparrows—the foundation of the world.: And with a flourish, he swept forward to claim the tray full of crumbs and tea service and was out the door with a single fluid movement.
She watched him go in a blue and green iridescent flash. And she nestled Tis closer to her heart, wishing she could trap this moment in amber and keep it like a jewel on a silk thread, forever.
• • •
The plan was hatched while they all rode with Abilard at midmorning—Cloudbrother, Sparrow, and Tis strapped to Sparrow’s back—taking the air together. The Vale was warm, lush, and gorgeous as always, the vines, trees, and flowers effusing pure life all around them, the air scented with herbs and sweet nectar.
:We cannot risk Tis, and if you cannot leave him, there it is,: Abilard said.
Cloudbrother was having a bad day. They rode bareback, and Sparrow clung to him, holding on as if he might slip out of her grasp and fly into the sky at any moment.
“So, dear Abilard, how shall you complete your mission?” she asked. “On a good day, Cloudbrother and you would be fine without me. But on a day like today . . .”
Sparrow trailed off, not willing to talk about her heartmate’s condition when he was not necessarily going to be able to participate in the discussion. She held him tight, knowing the pressure on his skin would keep him oriented, even if he could not stay verbal today.
“I’ve been thinking,” Sparrow ventured. She was always half-shy around Cloudbrother’s magnificent Companion. He was so powerful, and brilliant, and nearly overwhelming. He had always treated her with the utmost respect and friendliness, and yet she felt keenly the fact that he had Chosen Cloudbrother long before he had ever known of her, long before she and Brock had become heartmated.
She respected him too, profoundly. But she could not relax into their friendship the way she had, almost instantly, with Rork.
:Your common sense is a deep magic, Sparrow,: Abilard whispered, his Mindspeech like sun-warmed honey in her mind, golden and sweet. :I suspect you will find the key for us.:
“This is what I’m thinking,” she said slowly. She took a deep breath, fortifying herself with the heady perfume of the Vale before leaping into her idea. “Cloudbrother first encountered the evil at the edge of Longfall, right? And, on top of that, the entire village was bespelled a few years back. This was the first point of contact.”
Abilard hummed into her mind, an encouragement to go on.
“So we could go to Longfall, and I could visit the home village, stay there with Tis. It could become our home base. And I would bet you a thousand of Rork’s scones that the evil would come to us there.”
:But would that not mean that Tis was unsafe in the village?:
Sparrow’s heart sank. It was so obvious . . . she should have recognized the danger instantly. It was just that even after her experience there a few years ago, she still associated Longfall with boredom and ordinariness, not with magic of any kind. It was just her hometown, after all.
But Brock had been snatched from that very place.
The safety she always assumed had never existed at all.
Sparrow sighed. “Well, it’s not safe. Clearly. But it is safer than diving into the Forest of Sorrows. It’s the safety of the familiar, after all. I think it is very different with you there, and Cloudbrother there as well. Tis and I would not be undefended.”
:All safety is relative . . . even the Vale was not safe for you. It is too dangerous for us to hide and pretend we can keep you safe.:
Sparrow sighed again, then sat a little taller. Sometimes admitting the worst was a relief over pretending.
“I’d always thought an ordinary girl
would go unnoticed in a forgettable place like that. The whole place felt positively invisible growing up, so I never imagined that it could attract the notice of great and fell powers.”
:Nobody is ordinary if you truly know them, Sparrow. And yet . . . :
Sparrow sensed his hesitancy as well as heard it . . . a faint ache in her joints, a tightness across her chest, constricting her breath. But she waited for Abilard to follow his thoughts wherever they led.
The stone path they followed turned to a rough track, and they plunged into the jungle foliage. Somewhere far above, a Bondbird shrieked in delight, looping in and out of the canopy crown. A creature unseen rustled the leaves in the thick, droopy vines to their left, sending cascades of flower petals tumbling onto their heads.
Cloudbrother’s Companion sighed, his ears twitching backward toward Sparrow. :Perhaps you’re right. Maybe the uncanny stands out more in a place like Longfall,: Abilard finally said.
He picked up his pace, and Sparrow swayed with his gait, her legs still aching a little as she held on to Cloudbrother and sat extra straight so Tis and his carrier wouldn’t tweak her back muscles. Bluish shadows and patches of sunlight filtered through the intricate weave of branches and leaves, and Sparrow once again considered the varied patterns of energy in Valdemar, how very different Longfall was from a place like the Vale.
They rode in silence a bit longer.
:You’ve convinced me, despite the dangers. We leave for Longfall tomorrow morning,: Abilard said.
Sparrow knew Cloudbrother would approve . . . this was as close as they all could get to his abduction and as close to the ground near to where it first happened. She would stay with Tis in the “safe” part of the village, and hope that Cloudbrother and Abilard could chase the menace while keeping her and the baby clear.
It was the best they could do.
“I’ll be ready. Here’s hoping Cloudbrother has a better day tomorrow,” Sparrow replied. Her right hand let go of her beloved long enough to pat Abilard’s flank in thanks.
• • •
Unfortunately, Cloudbrother was a little worse the next morning. His skin, waxy pale, was cold to the touch. With a shiver, Sparrow remembered how very ill he had been the day Abilard had first brought him back to her. She worried that the closer they drew to the place of his disappearance, the worse his old symptoms would reassert themselves.
She drew back from her foreboding and lost herself in the minutiae of packing diapers and sun hats, long-sleeved shirts and baby slippers. It was amazing how much effort and preparation it took to dress such a tiny person.
After packing as lightly as she possibly could, Sparrow slung their single pack across Abilard’s withers. He wore a special traveling saddle designed to hold Cloudbrother on his mount even when he wasn’t fully conscious, with space for Sparrow to perch on the back.
Cloudbrother stood shivering in the clearing outside their ekele, drooping in the crisp morning light. Sparrow had given him an infusion of trefoil to drink on waking, but it didn’t appear to have done much for him this morning.
“Are you up to this, my love?” she murmured.
Cloudbrother didn’t answer at first, and she feared that he was altogether gone into the plane of the spirit.
But with a great effort he cleared his throat, licked his lips. “Not really ready,” he whispered, almost too quiet for her to hear. “But I can hunt him better this way.”
Sparrow put her worrying away . . . there was no more time for it. Instead she reached up and hugged him close, inhaling his sandalwood and trefoil scent. “Tis and I will come with you, close as we can.”
Almost on cue, a ruckus rose from inside the ekele. Tis was making his displeasure known . . . Rork was saying goodbye, and the baby was getting impatient for his mama. “I’m being summoned,” she said. “We’re ready to go.”
Inside, Rork dandled Tis on his bony lap, careful to keep his hooked claws clear of the child’s ruddy, sensitive baby skin. Tis squirmed and kicked his chubby legs, looking for a place to push off.
:Ah, he’s a handful.:
The words, evoking her heartmate’s description of himself as a child, sent a cold prickle of fear down Sparrow’s spine. “He’s my handful, Rork dear. And yours, too. We’ll be back after this visit, just as you said. I can’t wait to come back home.”
Rork didn’t smile this time. He tilted his head, considering her. Knowing she had not told him all the details of her trip back to Longfall . . . Cloudbrother had sworn her to secrecy.
:Go in peace, honey. Sometimes the past is a battlefield, sometimes it’s a lost country. But it’s always a wild ride. Don’t try to hoard the scones either . . . they’ll get stale instantly.:
“You always give the best advice, dear Rork.” And Sparrow meant her words with all her heart. She could not bear to say the word goodbye.
• • •
“Someday we’ll tell Tis all about this trip. We’ll tell it like it’s an adventure,” Sparrow said, a little desperately, about three candlemarks later.
By now it was midafternoon, and the little band had left the Vale and traveled the thick, almost impenetrable Forest of Sorrows. Longfall was still a long, arduous ride away.
And it was pouring rain outside the Vale, an unremitting, soaking downpour.
Soundless, Cloudbrother hunched over Abilard’s mane. Other than shivering occasionally, he gave off few measurable signs of life. Tis, protected from the rain by the brim of Sparrow’s sun hat, squeaked every so often when an errant raindrop sneaked down the back of his neck.
And between nibbles of Rork’s farewell scones, Sparrow was left alone to contemplate her galloping thoughts, never a good situation.
The heavy rain spattered through the hardwood forest as Abilard’s silvery hooves trampled the slippery dead leaves underfoot. He was completely silent, so present that to Sparrow it seemed that he was bigger than the entire forest. His presence was huge, like the sun.
Since the actual sun was hidden behind sullen cloud mountains and torrents of cold sluicing rain, Sparrow was grateful for his calm, warm constancy.
Abilard snorted, and after a small eternity replied to Sparrow’s observation. :It could be an adventure now, dear soul. In this moment, which is all we ever have.:
:Worry is a form of time travel,: Cloudbrother Mindspoke in both her and Abilard’s minds, startling her.
“And that travel is to a future that hopefully never comes,” Sparrow replied, thrilled to hear his voice amid all the mud and drudgery.
Abilard came to a giant puddle that had formed in a small clearing and splashed through it, mud spraying up along his flanks. The rain slowed, and Sparrow almost reflexively glanced up at the branches above their heads, scanning for crows.
Crows had served as harbingers of danger to her time after time, and she was grateful for their intercessions in the past. But today, not a single crow could be found in the forest surrounding them.
Somehow, their absence was more sinister than their looming presence had ever been.
Abilard doggedly pressed on, refusing to rest, and Tis, the little enlightened one, slept. Almost imperceptibly, the forest track gave way to a wider, more delineated way, then to a broad, gravel path that met with other, smaller trails.
“We’re almost to Longfall now,” Sparrow said, excitement creeping into her voice. Who knew what to expect once they got there . . . but she and the others could hope for at least a little shelter from the rain.
None of them expected to take a wrong turn.
• • •
The first sign their travels had gone amiss was the mist.
Longfall was set in the mountainous region of the border district of northern Valdemar. They traveled the main pathway, an extension of the north track road that led to the villages beyond the larger town of Errold’s Grove. At this point, the way was cle
ar.
And yet they were lost.
The mist danced up from the puddles, refracting the low light in weird and fantastic ways. It looked like ladies, dancing inside the smoke. Sparrow gasped, remembering her heartmate’s description of the dancing, alluring mist maiden that had led him to his near destruction.
“I don’t like this,” she said, her voice flat and hard to her own ears. It sounded as if somebody else were talking, somebody annoyed beyond composure.
Abilard stopped walking. He took in the suddenly trailless forest and whinnied. His voice echoed forlornly among the trees.
:Mama,: Tis spoke into her mind, so quietly she didn’t realize it was him until he had finished.
Goosebumps prickled up and down the length of Sparrow’s bare forearms. “Hush,” she said, her voice shaking. “Sweetie, just hush.”
:Papa needs me.:
By the Mother, Sparrow was in trouble—they all were—and she knew it to the bottom of her toes. Tis was speaking in her mind, clear as any Companion. And with the impulsivity and innocence of youth, he wanted to leap into the unknown after his hero, his daddy.
And who knew how far away her beloved Cloudbrother walked in the sky now, hunting his nemesis. Sparrow was trapped between mud and sky, not sure where to turn.
“Help me, Abilard!” she finally said aloud. “Keep Tis here with you! We’re surrounded.”
In all her misadventures, never had Sparrow found herself so far from home, any home. She and her beloved ones were swallowed up by wilderness, with no pathway to escape.
In a city like Haven, the denizens could romanticize the northern wilderness, the wild winter wastes, as a frontier, a place to prove your mettle. But the natives of this region had no illusions about the primeval forest that surrounded them, hungry to swallow them whole. Like the ocean a continent away, the forest was immense and intrinsically wild, untamable.
Forget the Change-Circles, the Change-Adepts, or strange creatures that hunted easy human prey . . . the very land itself was a threat as much as a place to find firewood and wild herbs.
That same forest held them in its grasp now.
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