“Why did you...?” Joam rasped.
“I'm sorry, brother! I couldn't let you,” Dayn said. Nassir looked on for a moment, then turned back to his men without a word. “Peace knows I'm sorry.”
“Enough of this!” Elder Buril's booming voice finally broke through the tumult, though only a few Wia Wells folk stilled themselves to listen. “What are you doing, scared witless by a fire and biting the hand reached out to help you? The Ring is here for harm as surely as you are, Henner! Or you, Cael.”
“There’s nothing we could have done!” Lurec still sought to reason with the people who jostled him from every side. He stepped out beside Elder Buril, even further from the Defenders still pushing to reach him. “On my word as a Preceptor!”
“You’re not wanted here―go back to the Ring! Take your filthy offworlder ways someplace else!” Dayn recognized the voice of the beady-eyed Misthavener, calling from the back of the crowd.
Confusion still ruled the Square. People rushed toward Hanalene and Kajalynn, or threw themselves at the Defenders. Others pulled dumbstruck villagers from harm's way. A Southforte man lunged for Lurec, pulling him savagely by the collar. The Preceptor struggled in vain as the man raised a fist.
Lurec's head snapped back so violently that Dayn cried out. The Preceptor's body went limp for a moment before he regained his feet. He held his hands up weakly to ward off another blow.
Dayn did not blink or turn his gaze, but somehow Nassir simply appeared next to the farmer. The Defender had slipped through the crowd like greased wind. His black gauntlet rested on the man's shoulder as though he were reasoning with an old friend. His hand tightened.
Spasms marched down the farmer’s arm. He snarled in pain as his grip convulsed open, and Lurec staggered over to his fellow Preceptors.
But the corded muscles in the Southforte man’s arm continued to contort of their own free will. He ran howling from the Square, casting fearful looks over his shoulder for signs of Defender pursuit.
“Peace embrace us,” Elder Buril breathed. The same thought flashed across every farmer’s face that Dayn could see. If a single Defender could do that with a touch, what happens if he looses them all?
“Proud of yourselves? Worked up by some fool Misthavener’s words?” Milchamah demanded loudly. Things were truly upside down for the weaponmaster to become the voice of reason. He stood with Elder Buril between the villagers and the Ringmen. Laman and other members of the Village Council joined them. Many villagers still angrily demanded to know Grahm's whereabouts, but order was finally returning.
Dayn looked regretfully at his own staff, wondering over a better way to stop Joam. It was too late now, though.
One of the Defenders broke from their circle to approach Nassir. “The Preceptors are all accounted for...but our force took none of these villagers prisoner, sir. What do they mean?”
“Another innocent the true enemy would lay at our feet. Move us out, Haenlin.” Nassir tapped two fingers absently on his cheek and muttered to himself before speaking aloud again. “Jetar will meet us on the northern road. We’ll stay in the capital until morning before returning to the sky.”
He never stopped watching the crowd. Villagers shrank away wherever his gaze rested. Finally satisfied with what he perceived, the Defender turned back. His stare fell on Dayn. Dayn swallowed hard as those hard brown eyes weighed him to the ounce. Take the Seed and go, he thought. You need never see any of us again.
“Forgive us this day, Elder,” Nassir, turning his focus to Buril. His tone was more command than apology. “The Ring still serves.” For once, Elder Buril stood speechless as the Defenders flowed like water into positions around Nassir. They watched the crowd impassively for any stray stones or fists, but no fight remained in Wia Wells. The Preceptors allowed themselves to be herded away wordlessly.
“No, we must stay here!” From somewhere within the cluster of retreating figures, Lurec shouted at the top of his lungs. “We’ll lose―” His voice cut off sharply. Dayn could imagine why, after seeing Nassir dispatch the Southforte man. The Defenders soon disappeared beyond the last ruined dwellings, watching every direction at once.
“Provoking Defenders!” Jairn exclaimed, before stomping off to his ruined gem shop. “What were we thinking?”
Some started to debate hotly with Elder Buril about Grahm. “What’s he done? Taken with no Elder permission, and three new toddlers to look after? They have no right!” Milchamah, of all people, argued the loudest. He had never uttered a word of praise for the offworlder before today.
Another innocent the true enemy would lay at our feet, that Defender said. Dayn did not want to believe the gray men, these voidwalkers, did something to Grahm. Guilt washed over him for being so suspicious over his neighbor’s odd behavior. Peace, he helped me out of the Dreadfall. What will Kajalynn do without him? He moved to join his parents, but stopped short.
Joam glowered at him, holding his side as he stood near the wells in the middle of the Square. Neither of them made a move to walk closer, or speak. Finally, Joam stalked away.
Dayn sighed heavily. He did not know which would be more difficult to repair, the burned out village or their friendship. A glint of warmth caught his attention, hidden in the remains of an Evensong booth. He raised his foot to stamp out the hot ember, glad for the chance to lash out at something, but halted at the last moment. Dayn could not believe what he saw.
The Seed glowed up at him from beneath the ash. The Preceptor had lost it in the fight. Dayn quickly looked around. Peace, why did I have to see it? Let someone else find it, I have enough to worry about! After a moment of agonized deliberation, he scooped the Seed up and slipped it in his pocket.
“Dust and blood, but that might have gone better.” The sound of Elder Buril's tired voice behind him made Dayn jump. “Are you alright, my boy? That Preceptor was awfully interested in you.”
“I...I'm not sure,” Dayn said. “Elder I need to show you what he wanted. He left it here on accident.” Dayn reached in his pocket, but Elder Buril shook his head sternly as more men approached them. Not now, his eyes said. The Elder rounded on the newcomers and Dayn groaned, wanting to slink away. More Misthaveners.
“What do you want, Payter? Our village burning down around our ears just once isn't enough for you? You would have the Ring to rain down fire from the sky and salt our land while they're at it?”
The Misthaven man cringed as Elder Buril's voice brought sharp eyes from every corner of the Square.
“I wish no harm on any good folk of Shard,” Payter protested. His eyes glittered like tiny black stones. “What I want, Buril, is to know the reason this boy raised a staff against one from his own world.” He gave Dayn a cruel smile. “We all saw him. What business have you with these offworlders? I’ve seen nothing of you since the ground faltered.”
“That is a Wia Wells matter, you meddling fool! Keep your nose out of it!” More people took notice, except for the knot clustered around Hanalene and Kajalynn. Despite his indignation, Elder Buril began to prod Dayn from the Square.
“A fine choice you’ve made for Attendant, Elder!” Payter's voice taunted them the whole way. “Don't think I didn't see you, boy―using your new title to blind my niece during the dances! Where were you when this village shook to pieces around us? Skulking with Ringmen? Something is amiss with you, boy―and I intend to find out what!”
“That Preceptor. Of all the people on Shard for you to arrive with.” The Elder's face turned sour as he led Dayn away from the crowd. “Payter is a plumb fool. I saw what you did with Joam, stopping him from caving in that Defender's skull. They came to help us, that’s what Defenders do—but they might have made the whole village regret this day, even so.”
“I don't think they would,” Dayn said. The Defender Nassir repeatedly forbade confrontation, even as his Ringmen took blows themselves.
“Well, no one ever accused you of having an overabundance of wits. Though I'm still convinced that may pass one day
.” The Elder snorted as he turned into a pocket of the village spared from the fire. They moved swiftly toward Sister Cari’s shop.
“Your father told me about your...adventures. Even that I could forgive, but the whole village will know by nightfall.” The Elder sighed heavily. “Dreadfall or no, the worst part is you were not here when the ground failed us, my boy. Who knows what people will think by week’s end?”
Elder Buril looked back the way they came. “See to your sister, while I fetch your parents.”
Dayn’s initial worries came rushing back. “She's here? Is she hurt?” He resisted an impulse to trample the Elder to get inside the shop.
“She...will live.” Elder Buril's face sagged in sudden, deep despair. “She was near the tangletoy when that fire struck the Square. Many of the children were. She fares better than most, but she’s badly burned, lad. It was a fire that water wouldn't touch.” Dayn rushed inside. Elder Buril closed the door behind him.
Sister Cari's modest shop consisted mainly of rows and rows of dried herbs along the walls. Pallets were squeezed onto every possibly inch of the wooden floor. Tela rested upon one, taking shallow breaths. Bandages covered her entire right arm, and her neck all the way up to her jaw. Dayn's stomach roiled to see the pain on her face, and the fragile heaving of her chest.
“Forgive me, Tela,” he whispered. “I should have been here, not you. This is all my fault!” He took the stool at his sister's side, and carefully checked her bandages. The ones near her ribs were not bloody at all, but milky with pus.
He wondered nervously where his parents were. The shop soon began to feel like a trap. He half expected that Misthavener Payter to fling open the door at any moment, rumpled hat and all, to drag him away. Dayn wanted nothing more than to go back to the farm and forget this entire day. Peace, the whole week!
Dayn hated not being able to explain everything to the village, but consigned himself to waiting. He took out the Seed and examined it to pass the time. A rippling stirred within it that reminded Dayn of when mist curled and eddied above the Silk River’s spring floods. Kohr Springs villagers who lived close would warn their children that the mist billowed because of deadwisps hiding in the river, hoping to drag them in the flood waters.
The orb looked filled to bursting, but the weight felt wrong to be hollow or full of liquid. Yet the innards were not fully solid, for they quavered and began to glow as though responding to his touch. He wondered if anything lay hidden within the Seed, waiting to pull him in, too.
Tela groaned as the Seed’s light washed over her. Dayn quickly hid it back in his pocket. He tried his hand at a lullaby to soothe her, but it rang false in his ears, so he let the melody fade. Long moments passed. Dayn found his own eyelids growing heavy.
“Wake up, son.” His parents were returned, along with Elder Buril and the healer. Dusk shone through the windows, now. Hanalene motioned for Dayn to rise, and Sister Cari took his place, peering over Tela's bandages like a graying bird.
“She's doing better than most, your Tela is. My salves are about as much good for her skin as the water was for the Dawnbreak. I had hoped for healers from the Ring to arrive by now, but I suppose Misthaven has a say on where they will lend aid.” Her face twisted, wrinkled hands tightening in frustration around the soiled bandages. “We'll just have to look after ourselves as best we can. Same as we've always done.” Her brown eyes flickered to Dayn. “Most of us, that is.” Her words stung like a hot whip.
“All of us,” Laman said firmly. “Thank you for your help, sister. We’re indebted to you. I’ll see to my family now.”
“She’s not to be moved, mind you,” the healer said crisply.
“My daughter will rest better in her own bed.”
Sister Cari drew in a breath that meant a long lecture, but she relented at Hanalene’s gentle touch upon her arm. “I won't wake her over this. Remember how many weren’t so fortunate before you do something foolish.”
“You needn't antagonize her,” Elder Buril muttered after she left. He looked cautiously out the windows with the look of a man with an unpleasant task to carry out. “I'm the one who shall hear about it later.”
“I’m grateful to be so near our healer, that’s peace's own truth,” Laman said tersely. “But for the Council to use my daughter to keep us close, the notion is―!”
Laman stopped short at Hanalene's reproving look. “She needs her rest if we’re to leave soon, husband,” she said.
“You won't be seeing your farm tonight, I'm afraid. Half the Council wants you to stay in the village, until they decide what to do about…” Elder Buril's worry melted into disgust as he lit the healer's lamps. Full dark would be upon the village soon. “To think I voted for some of the fools myself!”
Hanalene's brow furrowed in anger. “We’ve been stricken as surely as anyone else.” Her hand swept to Tela for emphasis.
“It's because of me,” Dayn said quietly. They all regarded him, faces still in the lamps' yellow glow. “Just because I was in the Dreadfall when this happened! I know I shouldn't have gone, but...it's not fair.”
“You’re right on both counts.” Elder Buril eased himself onto an empty pallet. “People rarely act like themselves when fear clouds their minds.”
“What did that Preceptor want with you?” Laman asked.
“What I found in the Dreadfall,” Dayn said, reaching into his pocket. “He called it a Seed.” He extended the little red orb. Laman palmed it curiously, getting a feel for the weight. Elder Buril declined to touch it at all.
“Certainly not a seed for planting,” Laman observed. “All that trouble for some Regent’s lost earring?”
“He said it could be a tool for the Belt, or a weapon.”
“A...Seed.” Elder Buril assumed the weight Dayn bestowed upon the word, though he appeared just as mystified as Laman. His face took on a speculative look. “I can't say I've ever heard of such a thing. Did he say anything else?”
Dayn hesitated, but his mother nodded encouragingly. “I was there, too. Tell them.”
“He thinks that voidwalkers are to blame for how Shard shook.”
Laman’s face went very still. Elder Buril's brow wrinkled in doubt. “How could anything do that to an entire world? To Shard?”
“I saw them when I fell. Heard them. They said they meant to tear Shard from the Belt. That was before everything exploded. There was rock everywhere, and…I think they all died. It was like Shard was defending her own heart from them.”
“I suppose you’ll tell me next that you visited the other side of the Dreadfall! No one can survive so close to a worldheart, you’d be crushed! And the heat—”
“Elder, forgive me, but he could. I told you what he was covered in when we pulled him out.” Dayn flinched at his father’s droll glance. “He planned well enough, I’ll give him that.”
“The Ringman listened to every word of his story without so much as a twitch,” Hanalene put in. “Peace keep us all. Who would believe such a tale?”
“Yonas,” Dayn offered. “Joam said he saw a man made of smoke, but I never got to speak with him at Evensong.”
“The Ro'Lett lad, you say?” Elder Buril rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I'll send for him at once.”
“He was on the tangletoy with Tela,” Laman said quietly. Hanalene bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. Then Dayn understood, and looked down at the floor. The burned buildings were one thing, but losing children might prove more than Wia Wells could bear.
“Peace keep him forever.” The Elder sighed heavily. He gave Dayn a considering look. “So your word will stand alone. That Preceptor doesn’t seem to be too popular among his fellows, either. That seals the decision, I think.”
“Yes. We will still return to our farm.” Laman fell silent for a moment, watching his daughter sleep. Relief flooded Dayn to hear the decision. He always found the best response to a situation. That is why his father’s next words came as a complete shock.
“You’re not com
ing with us.” Laman let loose a defeated sigh, looking at Hanalene. Dayn's mother nodded her confirmation, though anguish shone in her eyes. “You need to be away from Wia Wells, until things settle down.”
“And our kinfolk's senses return,” Elder Buril added.
Dayn's head swiveled back and forth between the three of them. “But I don't want to go!” he blurted out.
“It’s already decided, and you seem well enough to journey,” Laman said, a note of puzzlement entering his voice. “We made preparations while you slept. You’ll stay with your mother's sisters, in Greenshadow. We'll send for you at Sealing time. Surely this will die down by then.”
“Yes. That will work splendidly,” Elder Buril said. Haggard as he looked, the man seemed to brighten somewhat―at the prospect of Dayn leaving the village. “But Laman, we still must consider what to do with this...Seed.”
“I've done nothing wrong!” Dayn protested, a lump rising in his throat. “He came to our farm, I didn’t seek him out. I wanted to come and get father, but the Preceptor was so worried about the Seed, and now...I...”
“Lad, if you have any other suggestions, my ears are ready!” Elder Buril said, looking sternly at Dayn. Hanalene began to weep silently, and Laman moved to hold her, his face wooden.
Elder Buril sighed as he continued. “No? I thought not. What's more, you haven’t heard the people talking outside. The Misthaven folk and your friends, agreeing with each other. 'That Ro'Halan boy, he’s at the heart of it.' What do you suppose they'll make of this Seed? If it’s half what the Preceptor says? Those Ringmen will return for it if he’s as persistent as I suspect. They may not be so kind to us next time.”
“We don't know that,” Laman muttered, “not for certain.”
“Such things will stick to a man for all of his days.” Elder Buril fixed Dayn with a cool stare. “Stick to his name. You need to be rid of this Seed at once. Wia Wells needs to be rid of it!”
The Seedbearing Prince: Part I Page 11