by Susan Faw
“Cayden Tiernan, sir.”
“Ah yes…seems you have completed your basic training. You are to report to the seamstress’s tent which can be found in the merchant’s camp outside our camp perimeter. You are to have three uniforms made.” He tossed a coin purse at him. “Inside are your wages for the last two weeks. You are to pay her from your own pay, understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then go. After meeting with her, you are to report back to your unit.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” Cayden saluted and left the tent.
Cayden stopped by the mess tent and grabbed a couple bread rolls and some cheese. He pocketed these and then headed for the perimeter of the camp. Dawn was breaking the horizon, flooding the sky with purple and pink. He had about an hour to run his errand before he was due back at camp. Quickening his steps, he jogged to the perimeter. Nodding to the guards, he passed through and out into the merchant’s camp.
His spirits lifted as he left the military camp behind. He was free again for a short period. He breathed in deeply, smelling the earthy smells of springtime, his heart light. He gazed around at the landscape as he walked and munched on his cheese and bread, taking in the canopy of the great trees. A golden shaft of morning sun struck the leaves, the brilliant spotlight exploding his senses with the vibrant greens of new growth. Birds warbled and cooed, welcoming the day. It was a glorious morning and Cayden was happy to be alive in it.
Other than the few stolen moments alone with his flutes, he had not been able to escape his voluntary imprisonment. He wondered idly how Ryder was doing. He felt a pang of homesickness. The spring lambs would be coming soon. How would his father manage everything without him?
Cayden entered the merchants’ camp and dropped to a walk, strolling along the makeshift road between the wagons. A man backing out of a covered wagon nearly bowled Cayden over. Cayden stepped out of the way just in time and then asked where to find the seamstress’s tent. The man gestured down an aisle to the right.
At the end of the grass path, Cayden found a tent of bright green erected between two large maples. Smoke curled out of the center vent of the tent. He stepped up to the flap and knocked on the wooden shingle hung by the flap. “Mistress, would you be awake?”
A head popped out of the tent. Cayden found himself staring into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Emerald green, almond-shaped eyes gazed at him from a heart-shaped face framed by curly wisps of hair. Cayden’s heart stopped. Fumbling for speech, the words tumbled from his lips. “Sorry to disturb you. I need you to help me find my pants…No, to get some pants. I mean I have pants, but I need new pants. These are no good…” He stumbled to a halt, blushing, as he saw a grin split her face. Laughter sparkled in her eyes. Groaning, he took a deep breath to calm himself. “I sound like an idiot.”
“Not at all,” she laughed. Her laughter sounded like chimes dancing in a breeze. “I assume you are here for a uniform?”
“Yes.” Cayden sheepishly tugged at his collar.
“Come inside then. What is your name?”
“Cayden Tiernan. I am a new private and I was told you made uniforms.”
He followed her into the tent, noting the neatly arranged seamstress supplies. Bolts of cloths were stacked in piles along one wall. A table set with spools of threads in various colours, jars of buttons and zippers, scissors, measuring tapes, and other supplies Cayden didn’t recognize lined the opposite wall.
At the back of the tent sat a small narrow cot and a banded flat-topped chest with an oil lamp set on top of it. A small fireplace was centered in the tent, a wisp of smoke curling out the hole from the banked coals.
“Please, sit.” Ziona motioned to the chair set by the table of notions. “Tea? I made a pot a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, thank you.” Cayden gratefully sank into the chair indicated, wincing slightly. She poured tea into two ceramic cups and handing one to him and then perched on her table, one leg dangling over the side.
She studied him with interest. “I have been waiting for you to come see me. My name is Ziona Aspenwood.” She studied him, taking dainty sips of her tea.
Cayden’s studied her with curiosity. “You have? Why?” He met her frank gaze and, blushing again, dropped his eyes.
“So shy…,” she murmured. “Do you know who you are?” The blue aura pulsed around him, rising and falling as his emotions swung between curiosity and surprise.
Cayden’s eyes shot back to her. “What do you mean? I told you who I am.”
“I see…well.” Her eyes travelled up and down him. “I wish you could see what I see…It is all good. Believe me.” Her appreciative eyes roved over him, taking in his lean torso, blond curly hair, and vivid green eyes. Cayden blushed again under the scrutiny, his heart galloping and a chill of excitement shivered down his back.
“We have been destined to meet. I am here not merely as a merchant seamstress. I am what they call a Seeker. My people have sent me to be of assistance to you. Of course, I had to find you first.”
Cayden locked his eyes on hers. “You have been following me?” He frowned. “It was you! That day in the high pasture…I thought I saw something in the trees. Was that you?” He watched her eyes, gauging her reaction to his words.
It was Ziona’s turn to be surprised. “I didn’t think you had seen me.” Her eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Human eyesight should not have been able to spot me at such a distance.”
“I didn’t see you, not exactly. It was more like I sensed where you were.”
Ziona nodded her head, satisfied.
“Who sent you? What is a Seeker?” Taking another sip of his tea he tried to calm his racing heart. He was aware of her in a way he had never been before with any other woman. He inhaled her woodsy scent without thinking and then blushed again.
On impulse, Ziona reached up and unwound her braid from around her head, revealing her ears.
Cayden gasped, “You’re Primordial! “ His eyes searched quickly for spying eyes. “You shouldn’t be here! It’s extremely dangerous! They would hang you on sight, Ziona, if they ever found out what you are! You must go quickly!”
Ziona shook her head. She rewound her hair to hide her ears. “I am here for you. You are my destiny, Cayden. I set out with one other, Sharisha, seventeen years ago to find the prophesied children. We did not know where to go or even what they would look like. We only knew to watch for the signs. We have been searching for you and your sister for seventeen years. We are your guardians. And we are your friends.”
Cayden clutched at his tea, trying to warm his suddenly chilled fingers. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Wait…seventeen years? How old are you?” She appeared to be no more than a couple years older than him.
She again laughed. “We are a very long-lived race, but by Primordial reckoning, I would be of a similar age to you.”
“Is this a safe place,” Cayden asked, “to have this kind of conversation?”
“I have placed wards in the soil around the tent to prevent eavesdropping. It is part of my earth magic.”
“You have done what?”
“A ward is an invisible barrier. In this case, it keeps sound from travelling in or out from the boundary it surrounds. It is centered on me.”
“Oh. So why are you so interested in me? Frankly, I think you have it all wrong. I have never even seen a Primordial prior to this. I have barely been out of my village, except to go to the market in the next village over. What does my sister have to do with any of this?”
“Cayden, look at me.” Cayden met her gaze with defiance and a trace of fear visible in his green depths. “You have special abilities, don’t you?” His eyes widened, as fear leapt within him. “When I really look at you, I see a blue aura surrounding you. It pulses like waves lapping at a shoreline. We see it around your sister too.”
Cayden’s eyes locked on hers, searched hers, seeking her sincerity, examining her heart. Ziona shivered under the intense scrutiny.
Here was someone she could not lie to. His eyes commanded truth.
“We believe you have abilities you are hiding, or perhaps are not aware of yet. The queen, if she were to capture you, would order your execution on the spot. She has searched her entire reign to find you and your sister for she is aware of our prophecies, even if she does not believe in them.
“She sends soldiers into our lands, in an attempt to wipe out our peoples so no one will be able to aid you. She makes war on our villages, and we have had to abandon our homes, retreating to a sanctuary she does not know of. Even now, a new assault has been ordered and her soldiers march for the three passes into the Primordial lands across the Great Spine. She does all of this to try and find you and Avery…and here you sit right under her nose. Your sister is on her way to the sanctuary as we speak.” Cayden tried to absorb Ziona’s words. He tried to deny what she said, but the words rang true in his head.
“Avery glows too,” he murmured absently.
Ziona paused. “You can see her glow?”
“Yes. I have always been able to see her glow. Why do others not see it?”
Ziona nodded. “It is because they are not of the blood.”
“What blood?” Cayden asked, pinning her with his bright eyes again.
“Primordial blood Cayden, Royal Primordial blood.” She waited for the explosion. She didn’t have to wait for long.
Cayden stood up abruptly. “There is no way I am Primordial! I know who my mother and father are and they are not Primordial! What kind of foolishness is this?”
“The prophecies foretell of a prince and princess who would be born to humans but are of the blood. We do not understand how this is possible either. The prophecies do not explain it. Finding you both with this sign makes it ironclad. There can be no doubt as to who you two are.”
Cayden sank back into his chair shaking his head in disbelief. It isn’t possible…is it? It’s outlandish and absurd! He was not of royal birth; he wasn’t even important in his village. He was a farmer playing soldier.
Your flutes are an unusual talent, his conscience whispered; a very dangerous talent. If news of that particular talent were to reach the wrong ears, it would put a price on his head. He knew he would be hunted day and night. He frowned. Maybe the hunting had already started?
He lifted his head to meet her eyes, hands clasped in front, arms resting on his thighs. “You wanted to know about my abilities. Would you know if they are related to this theory of yours?”
“What kind of abilities?” Ziona cocked her head to one side, studying him.
“It must be kept an absolute secret. No one must ever know about it. It would be very dangerous news to share, especially in our present company. I like to carve. Flutes are my specialty. But when I play them animals gather.”
He watched her closely, gauging her reaction to his words.
Ziona frowned. “I have never heard of any Shamanic prophecies associated with you. Are these animals real?”
“Of course they are real. They seem to be called by the music of my flutes.”
“I have no idea.” She hopped off the table and walked over to him. “We need to get you measured for those uniforms. Stand, please?”
Cayden stood up and at her prompting, held his arms out parallel to the floor. Ziona picked up a tape measure and measured the under arm measurement, armpit to wrist. She then jotted this measure in a book at her side. Next she measured his bicep circumference, wrist, neck, and waist. She then measured from the lowest neck bone down his back to his waist and then from his waist to the floor.
“It will take me about a week to make these up. I would like you to come back for a fitting every day at dinnertime. Do not worry about getting dinner in the camp. You can share my dinner and we can talk further then in private.”
Cayden nodded. “Would you sew some hidden pockets in my uniform? I’d like a place to store my flutes on my person.”
“I will put a pocket right here,” she tapped his chest, over his heart, “and in the pant right here.” She said, pointing at his thigh.
“I should be getting back to camp.” He glanced back at her. “I am not sure I believe anything you have told me. But I do know one thing, I am no hero. I couldn’t kill an animal, let alone a person. I have no stomach for it.”
“What do you intend to do when a battle comes? You’re a soldier in the legion. How can you avoid hurting anyone in battle?”
“I don’t intend to be here long. I never did. I volunteered for reasons I would rather keep private, but it wasn’t because I wanted to serve.”
Ziona fingered her list of measurements, thinking. “Then perhaps we should make plans to break from the legion. It would be easiest to slip away when the legion is on the move,” she mused. “Let me think on it. We will talk tomorrow when you return for your fitting. I will have one set ready by then.”
Chapter 18
CAYDEN FINISHED SKINNING THE BARK off the willow branch. The supple wood was easy to strip, the bark falling away in curls. He was seated on a rotting log at the edge of a meadow. Two deer grazed knee-deep in the pasture in front of him, their heads popping up from the lush grasses every once in a while to check on his position. Free time was a rare commodity but when the opportunity presented itself, he could not resist the lure of the woods and his hands itched to carve. Carving soothed his wounded spirit and took his mind off the residual aches and pains of training.
As he carved, the bark-less wood revealed veins of yellow, green and—of all colours—pink. He spit on the wood and rubbed it in. The colours glowed. Fascinated, he trimmed the length to six and a half inches and then began to hollow out the middle. The pliable wood bent under his ministrations, soft as butter in his hands. He flared the end of the pipe into more of a bell shape. He hollowed out several petite finger holes along the shaft.
Putting down his tools, he inspected his work. The flute seemed feminine to him somehow, as though he was carving a little girl’s doll. He fancied the bell-shaped bottom looked like the billowing form of a child’s skirt as she twirled. His fingers followed the coloured lines of the wood. At the base, he carved small wing-like symbols and the oak symbol.
He then took out a soft cloth and picking up a small pot with some beeswax he had secured from the cook, rubbed the soft wax into the surface of the flute. The colours glowed like a rainbow. His heart swelled with pride and a grin spread across his face. Satisfaction oozed from every pore. He closed up the pot and put it and the cloth back in his pocket.
Closing his eyes, he put pipe to lips and gently blew. A tinkling sound like a child’s laughter sprang from the flute and danced across the air. The deer raised their heads in unison, ears twitching in interest.
This time, no animal came to him. When he opened his eyes, a child was standing in front of him in a shimmering turquoise tunic. She smiled at him impishly, foot tapping to the music. Cayden spilled backward off the log in surprise, yelping as he hit the ground. Pain flared in his overtaxed body. He scrambled around on all fours to see if she was still there.
She waggled her fingers at him, mystery and mischief in her eyes.
Cayden, his mouth dry, croaked, “Who are you? How did you get here?”
“I am called Aossi and I live here. How did you get here?”
Cayden slowly sat back on the ground, afraid she would run away. He ignored the question.
“Why are you here?”
“You called me, didn’t you?” She touched a hand to his flute.
“I called you? How can that be? My flutes have only attracted animals before.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he had spoken them aloud.
“Do you imagine only animals are attracted to your songs?” She tilted her head to one side, studying him. “Why play if not to have others enjoy it?”
Cayden shook his head, bemused. “Of course, I play for others to enjoy.” He felt a twinge of guilt at the lie. He had never played his flutes for anyone. She winked at him, knowing
it to be a lie. Cayden flushed in embarrassment.
“Let me tell you something, Cayden of the Cliffs. Music is a life force, a common well of unity that all may freely drink from. Music is a magic that can bind the worlds together. The soul of music is the very breath of life. All creation is bound together through this, yes?” She studied him further. “I think you know this already.” Her mouth curved into an ear-splitting smile that lit up her face. “So why are you surprised that I came to hear you play?”
“But…what are you?” Cayden asked, bemused.
Aossi grinned and ignored his question. “That is a conversation for another day. For now, I must go, but know that I am only ever a song away.” With a spin and a twirl of turquoise, she vanished right before his eyes.
Cayden gasped and slipped as he spun around, trying to see where she had gone. The deer lowered their heads and went back to munching on the grass. Cayden carefully placed the flute in the lined inner pocket Ziona had sewn for him.
He sat back down on the log, hands clasped and arms resting on his knees. Who was she and how did she vanish into thin air? He never had a person show up before. Wait. Was she a person? How had she known his name?
A harsh cry pierced the silence of the woods, and glancing up, he spied eagles soaring in lazy circles above his head. There were four of them, uncharacteristically grouped and circling in slow patterns above him.
He walked back over to the willow tree where he had found the branch. It was a huge tree, like the old oak tree back home, its crown high in the sky and its sprawling branches swooning back to the ground, its roots dug deeply into the bank of the river. It was ancient.
Suddenly, the deer’s heads shot up and they froze. The eagles screeched, as one of their members plummeted from the sky. The eagle crashed to earth a short distance from where Cayden sat. The deer bounded away into the safety of the woods.
Cayden ran over to where the eagle was lying. It lay on its back, flapping its wings feebly. An arrow had pierced its body. Cayden knelt beside the dying bird. The eagle locked eyes on him and stopped flapping. Cayden felt its thoughts. It seemed at peace and glad of his presence. He placed his hand on the bird’s breast, thinking to comfort it.