Seeking Sorrow (Guardians of Terath Book 1)

by Zen DiPietro

  As her thoughts shifted to her mother, their home coalesced around her. She sank into the soft, overstuffed chair where she had spent unnumbered hours, reading books and watching her mother cook. She even smelled her mother in this room. She hadn’t remembered the soft, spicy floral scent that was unique to her mother, but now it filled her senses. Contentment rolled over her like a wave.

  She reveled in the cozy, functional room. Her attention snagged on the teapot on the side table. She’d forgotten its intricate swirling pattern of jam-colored whorls. She studied the well-worn rug, where she’d spent countless hours of her childhood playing various made-up games. Some artist had meticulously woven jute by hand in dozens of shades to give them that rug. The mantel over the fireplace demanded her attention, so she drifted across the room.

  “Ah.” Her breath caught in her throat and she grasped the image display. Her fingers curled around it and brought it toward her heart, angling the screen so she could see the picture.

  A ten-year-old Kassimeigh grinned, revealing a missing tooth. Her hair hung in meticulously tight braids. Behind her, Mama beamed at the camera, her own hair a few shades lighter, and more wavy than curly. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her, and her own arms crossed over her chest to embrace her mother’s arms. They looked so happy.

  “I remember this,” she murmured, touching the display with her fingertip. They’d spent a lovely day together, gathering fruit and leaves and nuts, then storing them in the kitchen. Afterward, they’d invited a few friends and enjoyed a picnic and some outdoor games. She remembered her mother’s laugh ringing out. When she was a girl, she’d dreamed of growing up to sound like, look like, and act like her mother. Vaguely, she wondered if she had. Was she grown up yet? It was hard to know. Her thoughts whirled in a moment of confusion.

  She found herself in her bedroom, which held her narrow bed and fluffy green duvet. Still holding the picture in one hand, she ran the other hand over the soft, well-worn blanket. The smoothness of the fabric evoked memories of bedtime. Her mother had read stories to her and always kissed her forehead after tucking the blankets under her chin. She sank onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her, pressing the photo to her chest.

  “I used to stare at the ceiling and count the grain lines in the wood to help me get to sleep,” she remembered aloud.

  She let her mind feast on memories she’d forgotten. She saw her soft purple doll, which she’d carried with her everywhere until she was six years old. Netty, she’d called it. A jump rope hung from a peg on the wall, and her turtle shell collection decorated the entirety of another wall. A huge bookshelf housed far more volumes than the average child might want to read, but she’d voraciously read and re-read all of them, to the point of memorization in some cases. She noted many of the titles, plucking petals of memory from the flower of her childhood.

  Collecting vintage-style paper books had been her hobby. She’d liked digital books better for reading, but a girl couldn’t decorate her room with those. Her mother had been wonderfully indulgent to have most of those titles custom printed for her.

  She reached for the Netty doll and pulled it to her chest with the photo, feeling warm and full. All she needed was her mother to be fully complete. She stared up at the grain lines in the ceiling and her eyelids grew heavy. She allowed them to close and felt the warm weight of her mother’s arms pull her in and snuggle her.

  There, she thought, letting herself drift away. Now I can rest.

  Arc crossed the ridge to where the group of manahi lay on the ground. They sprawled in various poses of exhaustion and stress. He helped Luc lift himself to a sitting position. The man’s skin had blanched, and he seemed to have aged a decade.

  “What can I do?” Arc’s instinct was to charge the valley to the spot where the sphere had disappeared from view. Since Luc was in a better position to understand what had happened, Arc knew it was wiser to consult him before rushing into some action.

  “Go,” Luc rasped. “None of us is going anywhere right now, so it has to be you.” He gasped in a ragged breath. “You’re probably the only one who could help anyway.”

  When Arc opened his mouth to ask a question, Luc flailed a weakened arm at him. “Go!”

  Arc wheeled around and grabbed a first aid kit, then scooped up the coat Kassimeigh had dropped on the ground. He noticed that Will circulated through the battalion, calming and reassuring the troops.

  Arc hustled away from the steep point of the ridge. He reached the spot with the gentlest grade and slid over the rim on his rear. When he gained his feet, he negotiated the uneven terrain until it opened out into the valley. Any other time, the ruts and bulges in the ground would have hindered him, but he had no time for something as insignificant as terrain. Necessity drove him. As he neared the cemetery of cremated creatures, he felt residual heat emanating from the blackened char. Skirting the remains, he finally reached the back end of the valley.

  Kassimeigh’s body lay in the center of a dark crater that extended several feet around her in all directions. She sprawled on her side with her face pressed into the ground. He didn’t detect any movement as he crossed the last few feet of distance between them and dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Kassimeigh,” he gasped with the little air he had to spare rattling in his lungs. He put a hand on her shoulder, then recoiled from the lack of vibration he’d expected. She remained lifeless as he pressed his fingers to the junction of her neck, searching for a pulse. He felt nothing, though his own heart was pounding so loudly it might overshadow hers. If only he could give her all of the extra he had, just to keep her heart beating.

  A heartbeat was such a small thing. It was just one tiny movement swallowed up in the vastness of the rest of the world. That tiny bit was all that separated her from life. Rage burst in his chest. He cursed the universe for allowing her to harness unfathomable amounts of power, yet denying her the miniscule twitch of a heartbeat.

  He stretched out on the ground beside her. He touched his forehead to hers, as she’d done to him before she took her place on the ridge and changed their world forever. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her to him, wishing his own heartbeat into her. He had no use for his if she didn’t have hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have made you promise.” He knew she’d died to fulfill her promise to him. “You were right that I didn’t know what I was asking.”

  The pain in his chest breached his ribcage and burst out of him. He held Kassimeigh’s body tightly. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in her hair. They hadn’t even gotten the chance to know each other the way they should have. As he counted the things they would never share, time lost meaning for him. Every aching breath he took measured an eon of suffering.

  Heat lit his chest and the intensity distracted him enough to force his return to reality. He pressed his hand to the burning in his chest. The heat was a physical thing, and his hand reflexively yanked away from it. He held his breath and touched Kassimeigh’s chest. The heat seared his palm.

  A tiny movement in her neck drew his attention upward. He stared at her throat, where he saw a pulse throb. He felt his whole life begin again when her eyes opened.

  She stared blankly for several moments before focusing on him. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped.

  Arc cupped her jaw in his hand. “I’m here. Take your time. It’s okay.”

  He’d sit on this miserable ground with a boneyard of burned bodies as long as it took. He had far more questions than answers, but she’d come back to him. Nothing else mattered.

  Piece by piece, Kassimeigh rebooted her body. She found her lungs and managed to drag air into them and push it back out. She gained control of her eyes. She moved them to view Arc and blinked when they began to burn with dryness. Her arms and legs took longer to call back into service, which left her limp unt
il she established connection. Finally, her voice grew back into her chest, which allowed her to connect it to her throat and finally her mouth.

  “Arc,” she rasped with relief. She sagged against him as he sat her up and draped her coat around her. She realized she was bare-assed and cold in the middle of a valley.

  “What the hell was that?” His voice betrayed the many different stresses she’d caused him.

  “Long story. Better we talk about it with Luc.” She’d regained the use of her voice, but each word required effort.

  “Can you walk?”

  “Not sure.”

  He helped her to her feet. Her legs felt weak and rubbery, but they held her. He secured her to his side as she put one foot in front of the other and shifted her weight between them. She worked hard, and though he gave her a break by carrying her for a distance, she crested the ridge on her own.

  The battalion stood shoulder to shoulder, silently observing their approach. Kassimeigh gathered her last scintilla of strength to stand up straight before them. Some of the troops took a reflexive step backward.

  So they will fear me, she thought. She wondered if those who knew about Umi Cabal and Sorrow now suspected her of being the cause of their demise. It was too much to consider, on top of the physical devastation she suffered.

  She needed to find a place to rest before she collapsed. With Arc’s arm wrapped around her, she again felt deep, soul-numbing gratitude for him. They’d taken just a few steps when Will stepped out from the battalion.

  “Kassimeigh.”

  She randomly noted how ridiculously beautiful Will was. Gorgeous face, captivating coloring, and his body was almost inhumanly ideal. She wished she had muscles like his. She shook herself and wondered if her brain had gotten a bit scrambled during her ordeal. With an effort, she took control of her inappropriately free-range thoughts and applied herself to focusing on his words.

  Yet the words had stopped. She was about to beg pardon when Will dropped to one knee before her and placed a fist over his heart.

  “I owe you my life, and I pledge you my allegiance. You sacrificed yourself for us. Holy shiv order, it was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life! A phoenix! Unbelievable.” The tops of his ears flamed red. “But uh, yeah. Allegiance. Definitely pledged.”

  Guffaws rang out from among the ranks and Kassimeigh would have taken a step backward if not for Arc. His arm around her waist anchored her.

  A few of the battalion sank to their knees and adopted the same posture as Will. Then more followed suit. Within a minute, the entire battalion knelt to her and bowed their heads.

  Kassimeigh sagged against Arc’s side. The bridge of her nose began to sting. She’d expected them to fear and ostracize her, and instead they gave her an oath of fealty. They’d seen her do what no person should be able to do, and they didn’t condemn her for it. The relief, compounded with the trauma of her ordeal, threatened to level her.

  She disengaged herself from Arc, and took careful steps to stand before Will. She rested a hand on his shoulder. At her urging, he rose.

  “You’re still my general.” She gave him a pat. “I’m not about to take your job. I have enough to handle already.”

  Laughter rippled through the battalion. Humor normalized them, allowing their humanity and unity to outshine the events of the day.

  “Our justice needs to rest,” Will ordained, gesturing to his troops. Kassimeigh noticed how easily he assumed the role of commander. “First we assemble her tent, then we set up camp.”

  Arc stepped forward and rested his arm around her waist again. Gratefully, she leaned against him as the troops assembled and furnished her tent with record speed.

  Inside her tent, Kassimeigh reclined against a bedroll with a blanket spread across her lap. Her body ached with exhaustion. The other manahi had retired to their own tents as soon as the troops assembled them. Thom and Quillen had required help to stagger to their bedrolls.

  Only Luc postponed rest. Kassimeigh had refused entreaties to sleep, knowing she owed some explanations. She couldn’t rest until she knew she’d paid those dues. Therefore, she’d called Will, Luc, and Izzy to join her and Arc.

  “Tomorrow, we can talk about today. Right now, I’ll tell you what you don’t know about me.” She dug around in her brain for the best way to tell this story. Finally, she just dove in.

  “Very few cabalites possessed the ability to hold mana. That was a good thing, because the few that did were hopeless at it. Poor mana control is, of course, dangerous, and sometimes even criminal. After a few generations, it became common practice for the rare cabalite child to be blanketed prior to puberty. That way, they never had a chance to manifest their abilities and cause harm. A moderately strong transmuter can place a blanket over an undeveloped manahi’s abilities, effectively sealing off that part of a person.” She paused for a moment before continuing.

  “With those children blanketed, life was peaceful for the cabals. So when I was ten years old, my mother had me blanketed.”

  “Why have I never heard of this practice?” Will’s look of surprise might have been funny in another situation.

  “Because you didn’t need to.” Luc sighed. “A genetic weakness that keeps mana-holders from being able to control their mana is a source of shame for those families. Better to be thought one of the typical population rather than a failure of a manahi, or a possible danger to others.”

  “So how often does that happen?” Will asked.

  “It was always a rare issue, even then. Now that the cabals have broken up, it’s a non-issue. Intermarrying among cabalites caused and perpetuated the genetic weakness. That no longer happens.”

  Will looked at Kassimeigh. “What was it like to grow up knowing you had the ability to hold mana, but were prevented?”

  “It didn’t bother me, if that’s what you mean. My mother ingrained in me the importance of avoiding mana.” Kassimeigh had never given it much thought, as a child. She’d had no dreams of growing up to be a powerful manahi. She liked her simple cabalite life.

  Understanding dawned on Arc’s face. “What removes a blanket?”

  Kassimeigh shot a look at Luc, since he was the mana expert in the tent. But he remained silent, leaving her with the burden of explanation.

  She shifted her attention back to Arc. “The seal can be broken if a strong enough talent is applied to it, but it’s said to be difficult and unpleasant.”

  “Was it unpleasant to be blanketed?” Arc asked.

  “No. The process is like minor brain surgery. The younger the mind, the easier the surgery. I had no discomfort and didn’t feel any different afterward.”

  “You were a special case,” Luc interjected.

  Kassimeigh wondered what led Luc to that conclusion. Was that something he could sense, somehow? “I suppose. The manahi who blanketed me said I had greater ability than most. He said if I ever touched mana, it would be deadly. He said I should never allow anyone to touch me with mana.”

  Her mouth grew dry from talking and she took a sip of water before she continued.

  “My mother made me promise over and over to stay away from mana. Once she was gone and I dedicated myself to the order, holding mana never even occurred to me. The elders don’t accept manahi into the order.”

  “That’s why you refused to let Luc heal you when you took the crossbow bolt,” Izzy realized. “You didn’t want his mana to touch you.”

  Kassimeigh shifted her attention to Luc. “You knew about Arc and me that night.” She knew she was right when he showed no surprise. “Arc came to my tent. We’d felt something between us from our first meeting, and then he healed the wound in my side. Our soulbond incinerated the blanket confining my abilities so my mana could heal me. I don’t know if that means soulbonds are somehow related to mana. Nothing
I’ve heard or read suggested it.”

  “No wonder you’ve been touchy,” remarked Izzy. “All the parameters of your existence changed in one night. Wow.”

  “Something like that. I’m still working on it,” Kassimeigh felt an odd urge to laugh. She suspected her mana use had affected her brain. She hoped it was a short term issue that rest would cure.

  “Two people who discovered a soulbond under such spectacular conditions would make a fascinating case study,” Izzy teased.

  “Talk to me in twenty years.”

  Luc waved the banter away with an impatient flick of his hand. “It’s not easy to refrain from harnessing mana, when you’re able to,” he observed. “Like a child who has to wiggle a loose tooth, it’s an irresistible impulse. You spent quite some time walking around Terath with no blanket and a wild talent.”

  “I flatter myself to think I have a strong mental discipline, thanks to the order. I ignored the loose tooth. The last thing I wanted was to use mana.”

  “Can you replace her blanket?” Arc asked.

  Luc shook his head. “It doesn’t work for adults, and she’s touched mana. She’s stuck with it now.”

  “Can a person’s ability be removed altogether, rather than just blanketed?” Will asked. “Seems like a simpler solution.”