by Nhys Glover
"You're an Elemental Mistress," he said as if that meant something in this weird conversation we were having.
"Aye, so what?"
"So you'll have a harem. Eventually, you'll have a harem."
I hadn't considered that idea, past the first thought of not even wanting one husband, no less more. So no, I had no plans to start my own harem. Airsha had to work too hard keeping the peace with her men, and they were brothers. What would it be like for me with a bunch of unrelated men sharing my bed? I cringed. Sex was painful and sickening, and I didn't want anything to do with it.
"You're an Elemental Master. You could have a harem yourself," I said, trying to hide my cringe.
"My Da didn't have one, so I won't either. But maybe I could be part of yours. Someday. Not for suns yet. But maybe someday."
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, as he kept pace with me. "Our pieces fit, Flea. In the chaos, our pieces fit. Like Spot and Storm fit. Like Airsha and the Airluds fit. We all fit. But Airsha is the hub. Without her, the pieces will fly apart and be lost. Without her."
I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant.
Without her, we were all lost.
Chapter Thirteen
AIRSHA
I woke to find Trace moving around our campsite. He looked terrible. And not because he was still at death's door. The moss packing and the feeds had worked wonders. No, he looked terrible because he was preparing to face death.
Over the long night, between feeds, I had come up with a plan. I wasn't sure how well it would work, or even if Trace would be open to it. But it was better than letting him be killed for kidnapping me. I owed him more than that. He had thrown away his position, his coin and his chance to become a legitimate son of the Godling for me. He didn't deserve to lose his life as well.
"We go then?" I asked, rising and making for the bushes I had been using as my convenience.
"We go. I have my direction-finder. It was in my hand when the beastling attacked you, and I dropped it when I jumped from my mount. We just need to head in the opposite direction to the way it points to. It will be slow going, but we should make it back to the road leading to the stronghold in a couple of days or so."
"Very well."
Half a turn or so later we were on our way. We had nothing to carry water in, so we'd drunk our fill before leaving. And I'd put the last of the meat strips into the pocket of my breeches. They tasted foul, but they quietened the pangs in my stomach. I wasn't sure what I'd do about Trace. The milk was there for now, but if I went without water for too long, my supply would likely dry up fast.
I didn't want it to. I wanted to be able to go back to feeding my babes. In all this madness and disruption, my babes had become the one constant. They, at least, would want their mother back.
For the first few turns Trace seemed to make reasonable progress. Not fast, not even a strolling pace, but progress. But, as the day went on, his steps became slower and more stumbling and we took more and more breaks. By late afternoon, I was having to help him walk, his arm slung over my shoulder. The feeds, which came when my breasts told me it was time, seemed to revive him a little, but the exertion was taking its toll. And I was so thirsty.
It was me who called our journey to a halt as the darkness began to encroach on the forest once more. The featherlings and other small creatures, which provided a constant chorus in the background of our days, had become quiet as night approached. But it wasn't the silence that forewarned of danger. No, this was that perfect, peaceful time when the day creatures gave way to the night.
I knew I would need a fire for warmth. We both would. So I picked a clearing, lay Trace down, and went to collect wood. I wondered if I could create fire again. Trace seemed to think I was capable of all kinds of elemental magic. If I had the ability to make water out of air I would have been ecstatic. But I would settle for fire.
"You need water," Trace rasped out, looking like he wanted to get up and help, but couldn't.
My lips had started cracking and my skin felt dry. A thirst worse than anything I'd ever experienced had been slowly claiming me as the day went on, but there was little I could do about it. We'd found no more creeks on our journey.
"Make it rain. Look, there's a rock with a deep indentation in it over there." He pointed to a large flat rock nearby that had a deep hole worn into it. "If it rained, even for a short while, it would fill with enough water to sustain you a little longer," he said slowly.
"Make it rain? Are you mad? I cannot make it rain!" I exclaimed in exasperation. I was so tired I could barely put one foot in front of the next, as I gathered my pile of sticks. I had no energy for thinking and arguing. Even if I could make it rain, my firewood would become wet, and we would be cold and damp through the night. A chill on top of everything else? I think not.
"You likely can. I have seen you do incredible things. If your need is great the Goddess, if She exists, will provide. Have you even considered how that beastling knocked you from your mount, but you did not sustain an injury? You have no teeth or claw-marks on you anywhere."
I shook my head. He was deranged. Deluded. And the beastling didn't have a chance to hurt me, other than knock me to the ground, because he had stopped it. Not the Goddess. I didn't even believe in such a being.
But the soft, gentle voice I'd heard denied that claim. It had led me to the moss I needed to help heal Trace. It had encouraged me to feed him. But since then it had been silent.
"Do you want some of this?" I asked him, offering up one of the two remaining strips of meat. "I do not think I have any more milk left."
He shook his head. "What you gave me has served me well enough today. I am better off than you. You eat one and save the other for morning."
I wanted to argue but didn't have the energy. I turned to the pile of branches and dead wood I'd collected and sought the still place within. It was the most natural thing in the world to do, and I went there automatically. Once there, I imagined a small spark of fire leaping into existence among the small branches and dead leaves I'd collected as kindling.
A moment later, there was a whooshing sound and I opened my eyes to see the kindling had ignited and the fire with it. Flames leapt skyward in red and gold dancing licks.
"One of my brothers can do that. It is a better skill than mine," Trace said conversationally, as if I hadn't just done something miraculous. I truly was a magical daughter! I could no longer deny it.
And so we had warmth through the long night, and I slept soundly for the first time, curled up in Trace's arms beside the fire.
Next morning my stomach started cramping. I tried to nibble at the meat, but I had no saliva to moisten it for swallowing. My throat was tight, and my mouth so dry I couldn't speak.
"Rain," Trace said, staring down into my face, deep concern marring his dark features. "You need to make it rain."
"How?" I croaked out.
"The same way you make fire. I do not know how it works for you. All I know is how it works for me. I place a hand on my target and imagine siphoning off the memories I want. And it happens. Try imagining rain."
I was too tired and thirsty to argue, so I lay back on his arm, which I'd been using as a pillow most of the night, and looked up at the sky above, beyond the canopy of leaves. It wasn't even blue I could see, just lightness against the green tint of leaves.
Seeking my silent place, I tried to do as Trace suggested. It wouldn't serve me to stubbornly cling to the belief I couldn't make rain. I needed to be open to the possibility I could. If I was to survive another day, I needed to make rain.
I found my place and sank deeply into it, feeling the forest around me like a comforting embrace. All I needed was here; all I had to do was look.; all I had to do was ask.
In my mind's eye, I saw red berries on a bush. I Knew I could eat them safely. Up until now, I'd avoided trying any of the vegetation, in case it was poison. Now I knew of at least one source of food.
Next, I needed water. And unless there wa
s some nearby, which I didn't sense, I needed rain.
Rain. I imagined clouds gathering, moving in fast, like the clouds that had brought the blizzard. But these ones were not milky white. These ones were the colour of a fresh bruise. When I opened my eyes, I heard the crack of lightning and the boom of thunder. The forest around us stirred to life with wind. And the sky opened up and poured warm rain down upon us as we lay there together.
Trace laughed with delight and opened his mouth to capture the drops on his tongue. I did the same. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Nothing had ever felt so good against my filthy skin.
It didn't last long. A sudden storm that passed as fast as it had arisen. But in its wake it left the large indentation in the rock filled to the brim with water.
"Drink your fill," Trace told me when I looked at him. "If you drink your fill you'll have milk again. That will sustain me."
I didn't wait for him to change his mind. I stuck my nose in the puddle and started drinking. By the time I had drained it, my belly had rounded out like a toad's. And I felt better than I had in days.
My breasts didn't start tingling for a few hours though. But when they did, I called a halt and let Trace feed. I used the time to chew at the last of my meat and swallow down some of the berries I'd picked as we walked.
"Try some berries," I offered after he was finished. There hadn't been much milk in either breast. I knew from how short a time he stayed at each.
He shook his head. "I am fine for now. Mayhap if we see more as we walk I will try them."
Trace again managed to walk for the first part of the day, following his direction-finder that took us into the most heavily vegetated sections of the forest. Sometimes the undergrowth was so thick we had to detour around it, though it added more distance to our journey. We found plenty of berries on the way, though, and Trace tried them, found them tasty and began devouring as many as he could lay his hands on. I tried to slow him down. Somehow I knew that his stomach would revolt if he put too much into it too fast.
Reluctantly, he obeyed me, but I could tell from his desperation that my milk was no longer enough for him. It was like watching a child grow up and move on to solid food. I felt a small amount of sadness accompanied the transition.
By mid-afternoon Trace was again needing me to keep him on his feet. Our shambling steps became more erratic the longer we kept going. To take my mind off the pain and exhaustion I felt, I started explaining my plan.
"I want to tell them you rescued me from the kidnapper. And you were bringing me back, though you were not sure where I belonged or who I am," I said between pants.
For a long time Trace stayed quiet. Then he said, "Why would you do that for me?"
I shrugged as best I could, given the weight on my shoulders. It was times like this I wished I wasn't such a small woman.
"You did what you did because you were a soldier following orders. But then you started to help me when you did not have to. And you chose to tell me who I was and offered to bring me home, though you knew your life would be forfeit by doing so. Though I cannot forgive you for making me betray my husbands, I can the rest. And you do not deserve to die for seducing me. You cannot go back to the Godling, so you have lost everything because of me. You shouldn't have to lose your life as well." I said all this in fits and starts as we plodded on.
He shook his head when I finished and gave a tired, pained chuckle. "Of all the things I have done to you, seducing you is the only one you cannot forgive? You are a very strange woman, indeed."
I tried to shrug again and couldn't. "I imagine you are not the first to note that about me."
"So what was I doing wandering around in the forest when I came upon you, killed your kidnapper and rescued you from your fate?" There was a touch of an exhausted smile in his voice.
"You were a traveller heading from Sousealund with a convoy of wagons. They were attacked and you escaped into the forest, where you became lost. You saw a fire and thought you had found help, only to discover a man with a bound woman he was terrorising. A man who had taken my memories. So you did the right thing, killed my attacker and saved the lady in distress. Then, when we were trying to follow my tracks back from wherever I had come from, a beastling attacked, the mounts bolted, and you were badly hurt saving me. At least that is the truth. You do not know who I am and neither do I. We will just have to hope that whoever we come upon will recognise me."
He did laugh then, more loudly that I thought him capable of at that moment. "How long did it take to come up with that preposterous tale?"
"Most of the last night we spent by the creek," I answered indignantly. It wasn't a very good story but it was hardly preposterous. It could have happened.
Trace stopped, leaned over, and drew in a few deep breaths. I did the same. When he was recovered enough to go on, I felt the tingle of milk. I offered what I had, and ate berries, using them for the little amount of liquid they provided.
We had possibly another two turns before it would get too dark to go on. Now Trace had fed he had a little more energy. I did not. But I took up my place beneath his arm and we began to trudge on.
"We will try it your way. If it works and saves my life, I will be grateful. If it does not... then it does not. If whoever finds us does not know who you are then we will tell them and I will take the consequences." Again, his words came out over a long period, between grunts and gasps for air.
I wanted to make it rain again, I was so thirsty. But already the chill was in the air, and I knew that being cold and wet was worse than being thirsty. Mayhap I could repeat what I did this morn tomorrow morn.
Gods! How many more days of this did we need to suffer?
And still we carried on.
I am not sure how long it was before I began to hear the calls. It was Trace who registered them first. We came to a shambling halt as a pair of lads came running towards us. Behind them came soldiers. I knew they were soldiers, even though I had no idea whose side they were on.
"The rebels have found us," Trace announced softly as I continued to watch the red-haired boy and his dark-haired companion scrambling over shrubs and fallen logs to get to us.
When they reached us they stopped in their tracks about five strides away and stared open-mouthed at us for a full minute before the red-head spoke.
"Airsha... Goddess... are you well?" he said tentatively, eyeing Trace as if he was a reptile ready to strike. The absurdity of that had me grinning a little. Trace was about as dangerous right now as a babe.
"Do I know you?" I asked in return.
That stunned both the youths. By this time the soldiers had caught up and were glaring daggers at Trace.
"I'm Flea. And this is Zem. We're airling rider recruits. You know us both well. Don't you?" the one called Flea said even more tentatively.
"I am sorry," I said with a sad smile. "I do not know who you are. Or who I am, for that matter."
"Gods' balls," the red-head muttered bleakly. I couldn't help agreeing with the sentiment.
Chapter Fourteen
AIRSHA
"Who're you?" one of the soldiers demanded of Trace.
My kidnapper/rescuer tried to stand taller to meet the threat but he couldn't manage it.
"This man saved me from my abductor and then from a beastling that attacked me. His name is Trace," I answered for him.
Trace dropped to the ground, his legs giving way under him. I knelt at his side.
"We have walked two days with little water or food. Do... Do you have any to spare?" I asked, not sure whether it was acceptable for me to do so. But Trace's face was grey and he looked even worse than he had when we last stopped. If he didn't get sustenance soon he would die.
The soldier who had demanded answers gave an order and fruit, bread and cheese suddenly appeared in front of us. Yet even more welcome was the large flask of watered wine.
I offered it first to Trace, but he shook his head, gesturing for me to go first. And I did, downing long thir
sty gulps before taking a break to offer it up to Trace.
He took it this time and swallowed down almost as much as I had. While the soldiers milled around us and the two youths looked on, we ate our fill of the food offered us.
I heard the sound of someone crashing through the underbrush. Then a second person. I looked up to see two large men, not soldiers, dashing towards us. One was badly scarred and the other outrageously handsome.
The scarred one pushed past the soldiers and swept me from the ground, hugging me so tightly to him that he threatened to break my ribs.
"Leave off, Rama. You'll hurt her," the handsome one reproved, his face alight with wonder and joy.
The scarred man loosened his grip on me and kissed my neck tenderly. "Gods, I never thought I'd see you again. This losing you every few moons is getting old." His words were thick with tears.
I had no answer for him. No words of comfort. He was a stranger to me.
"My turn," the other man said, reaching out to stroke my arm. An arm that was covered with cuts and scratches, I realised as he stroked over it gently.
The scarred man reluctantly released me and the handsome one drew me in for a much less intense hug. "Sweetling, we've been going mad without you. How're you here? How did you escape?"
The scarred man was scowling at Trace now, and I feared for him. "Trace saved me. Twice. Stop staring at him as if you want to drive a dagger into his chest," I demanded in annoyance and fright.
How I found the courage to challenge this fearsome man, I do not know. He could have broken me like a twig, and nearly had, just by hugging me.
"She doesn't remember us," the red-haired lad called Flea told them. "Whoever stole her took her memories as well." He sounded devastated. Just as I had felt when I realised what Trace had taken from me.
Yet right now Trace was the only person I did know and trust. Which was pure madness. But these people, who seemed so desperate to have me back, were nothing to me. I assumed these two, the scarred one and the handsome one, were two of my husbands. But I could have just as easily loved the guard who first approached us. It made me feel sick. I had lost so much.