As I lay in a complete darkness facilitated by a cloud cover heavy enough to hide the moons, I released my mind to quest for signs of an enemy’s approach. Like tendrils spreading across the ground, my senses slithered away from Aeris, growing thinner and less sure the farther they spread from the village. Nothing. I knew the earth reavers were out there but they were beyond my range, whatever that was. Likewise, the storm had either abated or passed on. For the moment, at least, everything was peaceful. That realization allowed me to drift off into a short, fitful slumber.
The morning dawned gray and rainy, with a persistent drizzle making everything damp. The oppressive humidity made the air thick and prevented even covered areas from drying. As best I could determine, this was a natural weather pattern but that didn’t make it more pleasant. Everyone in Aeris went about their business but today’s chores weren’t the usual ones. Arrows were being fashioned and fletched. Tree branches were being stripped of their bark and shaped into javelins. Swords and knives were being sharpened. The village was taking the possibility of battle seriously. And no patrol was going out today. The search for Rengen and Elena had been abandoned, at least temporarily. There were more immediate concerns that demanded the people’s attention.
“You’re awake. Good,” said Rickard, strolling into the front room where I had been sleeping. His voice was as gruff as ever but there was no trace of animosity in his tone. “Father Backus asked to see you when you’re ready. Your time is better spent with him than doing the menial tasks the rest of us are attending to.”
Seeing Father Backus wasn’t just a good idea, it was a necessity. Less than twenty minutes later - the time it took me to get something to eat and splash water on my face - I was sitting on the priest’s floor, gazing up at him as he reclined in his chair. He looked no more or less concerned than he had on any of the other mornings I had visited him. It was almost as if the possibility of an attack didn’t concern him.
“Are you going to come clean?” I asked him.
His look of incomprehension made me realize that idiom didn’t translate. “Are you going to tell me the truth?”
“What truth do you suppose you deserve?” It was an odd response. I wondered if we were about to engage in word games and riddles. I hoped not. I wasn’t in the mood.
“You’re a Summoner.”
He didn’t respond immediately and, in that pause, any doubts I had about my leap of intuition were wiped away. A denial would have been firm and immediate. I didn’t congratulate myself on my Sherlock Holmesian powers of deduction. I should have come to this obvious conclusion much earlier.
“I wondered how long it would take you to figure that out. I had intended to tell you eventually but it seems the earth reavers have advanced the timing.”
“You’re a Summoner,” I repeated more firmly.
“Technically, I’m a wizard.”
“There’s a difference?” I hadn’t heard the term yet in this world but it enjoyed commonplace usage where I came from.
“A wizard is a Summoner who’s either not formally trained or incapable of practicing meaningful magic. To put it plainly in my case, I’m burned out.”
I wondered what it meant for a Summoner to lose his powers and whether it had anything to do with the warning Backus had issued before I left on the patrol: Use magic only as a last resort.
“What gave me away?” he asked.
“You knew things that even a very old priest wouldn’t know. The self-medication with the leaves was too fantastical…”
“It’s true, though. Daily doses have maintained my life far beyond its normal span. But I can only endure them because I’m a wizard. If I wasn’t magical, even small amounts, if administered regularly, would be fatal. What can be healing and beneficial to Summoners can kill those without our special body chemistry.”
“What happened? What caused you to burn out?” If there was a lesson here - and I’m sure there was one - I was determined to learn it. Never in my life had I been more hungry for knowledge.
“Every magical act, no matter how insignificant, requires energy. It’s one of the basic laws of existence that matter and energy can’t be created, only transformed. One thing that differentiates a Summoner from a common person is the ability to capture mundane forms of energy and convert them into the volatile, permeable form we call magic. It’s neither matter nor energy but something altogether different and it can’t spring into being out of nothingness.
“As Summoners, we can draw on two forms of energy for our power. The first is the essence of our being. This is limited and therefore limiting. Drain it and you die. Delve too deeply into it and you can end up a weakling or an invalid. Life’s essence doesn’t regenerate. Once gone, it never comes back. The other, more common source is emotion.
“Any emotion will do although stronger acts require extreme emotion. Our emotional reserves refill, although slowly. They’re a well - deep but finite. Summoners often use what we call ‘flash emotions’ for minor workings. Let me demonstrate…” So saying, he withdrew a needle from a pincushion he kept under his chair. He then slid from the seat to squat next to me on the floor and, with surprising deftness, jabbed the pad of my left thumb with the instrument.
“Ow!” I shouted, jerking away my hand. No serious damage, just a moment’s sting and a single droplet of blood, red like a liquid ruby. I put the injured finger in my mouth and sucked while regarding the priest with an angry glare.
“If you understood how to channel emotion, you could transform your surprise and anger into something productive. It will fade on its own so it needs to be used immediately. Other, deeper feelings can last for years or longer. Plumbing them is dangerous because it undermines your essential character.”
He was right. The anger, like the pain, was already diminishing. I had no idea how to harness the emotion so it trickled away without bearing fruit. Had he expected me to do something with it or had the object of the lesson been less aggressive?
Replacing the needle, he continued, “Emotions are like treasures. Some - the most valuable ones - have to be locked away so they can’t be lost. Over the years, I’ve learned there are limits. When you’ve exhausted your current supply of emotions, you get used to the feeling of emptiness. It becomes comfortable. New emotions are anathema, unwanted and unwelcome. It’s not that I don’t feel anything, but my feelings are shallow, my thoughts and actions grounded in logic. For me, magic is a thing of the past. I daresay I could manage little things - tricks and illusions, mostly. But nothing significant. I haven’t been a true practitioner since before I came to Aeris.”
It was almost too much to process. I felt like I had been sitting in a class where a teacher had just given all the answers to the next test and I hadn’t taken notes.
“So you’re saying that…” My voice trailed off as I realized I didn’t fully understand what he was saying.
His response was patient, exhibiting no exasperation at his pupil’s slowness. “Magic is a force. It takes many forms, some recognizable, some not. Naturally occurring magic can be a cranky thing to control because its lack of purity makes for unpredictable results. You need energy to fuel the creation of magic and the Summoner’s emotion provides that. This is a gross oversimplification but think of it this way: you have the ability to transform emotional energy into magical energy, and that magical energy can then be used to do something: light a torch, fell a tree, stop a sword, heal a wound, kill an enemy…your imagination provides the limitations. But every ‘transaction’ drains your emotional wellspring. And if you lose too much, you’ll end up a cold shell of a person struggling to hold onto the vestiges of your humanity.” Of course, he was speaking of himself. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure about this whole “Summoner” thing. Things were always more impressive until you read the fine print.
“How much can you teach me? About changing my emotions into magic, I mean.”
He sighed, a gesture more theatrical than genuine. “Very little, I’m afraid.
I can’t demonstrate it and the process isn’t easy to explain. Could you teach me how to listen? No? Magic is just as instinctive. I learned it gradually when I was young. I was never formally tutored and only those closest to me knew my secret. Everything I did was the result of trial-and-error. I never learned the spells or cantrips used by well-schooled Summoners. If I had it to do again, maybe I would seek out a master, but I find it hard to regret my choices. Your path must be different. Instinct may unlock some of your abilities but you’ll need to seek the knowledge of someone who’s negotiated this road more adroitly than I have.”
Do as I say not as I do. His advice was the ultimate in hypocrisy. Maybe it made sense as a future goal but it wasn’t helpful in the here-and-now. The growing sense of frustration was difficult to fight down. Too bad I didn’t understand the process or I could transform it into magic and do something with it.
“Can you control which emotions you…use?”
“I was never able to. My magic was inconsistent. Disciplined Summoners can, though. It allows them to become stronger. If you learn to burn off all your negative emotions - fears, sadness, pain - and leave behind only the precious ones, it could make you a calm, resilient woman. Commoners think of Summoners as clear-headed and intelligent. Not all are the latter but most are the former.”
I was about to ask another question when I suddenly felt an unwelcome twinge at the edge of my awareness. My heart dropped into my stomach. The earth reavers were on the move toward Aeris.
Chapter Ten: Something Wicked This Way Comes
As soon as my senses had pinpointed the threat to Aeris, Backus took me to the elders’ hall. We were admitted without delay and, although only two members of the council were present - one of the women and Ebenezer (whose actual name was Targen) - my report was given the highest priority.
After that, I spent the day with Esme, Samell, and Esme’s friend Alyssa by my side, monitoring the earth reavers’ approach as best I could. Their initially faint presence grew more pronounced as the minutes ticked by. An attack wasn’t yet imminent but everyone accepted its inevitability. Preparations kicked into overdrive as the citizens prepared for the battle. People died all the time in communities like Aeris but this place had never seen the kind of bloodshed likely to occur if the earth reavers continued their advance.
Shortly after I began my watch, Samell approached me, offering to replace my stick (really just a crudely shaped tree branch) with a finely crafted wooden staff. “I wish I’d had more time to finish it. It’s still a little rough. But I hope it’ll be useful.” He spoke the words almost shyly as he proffered the gift.
I wasn’t sure why he was dissatisfied. It was a beautiful item, suitable for use as a tool or a weapon. The six-foot long pole of stained wood was dark, smooth, and hard. One end was capped with an iron spike while the other was blunt and unadorned. Although it wasn’t ornamental, the craftsmanship in its creation was evident.
“My first possession in this world,” I said with a satisfied smile, feeling its weight and balance as I practiced a couple of the moves Esme had taught me. The air provided a worthy opponent; I doubted I could have landed a blow on a real person. “Well, except for my clothing.” The local clothes maker had tailored the blouse and pants I currently wore and a cobbler had replaced Esme’s ill-fitting moccasins with larger, more durable footwear.
“I wish I’d been able to give it in less urgent circumstances. And I hope those of us assigned to defend you will make sure you don’t have to use it.”
Those of us assigned to defend you… My “honor guard,” Backus had called it. They were all people I knew and trusted: Samell, Esme, Rickard, and Alyssa. Their primary duty, if an attack occurred, was to ensure that no harm came to me. The priest had been frank about one point: “A fully trained Summoner wouldn’t need protection. Quite the opposite: she would protect everyone around her. But the likelihood that you’ll be able to contribute is small. And you don’t dare repeat what you did in The Verdant Blight.” The memory of the headache’s intensity convinced me of the wisdom of his words.
It was a long, uncomfortable day with a light mist coating everything. Occasionally, the leaden skies would let loose with a heavy burst of rain, thoroughly soaking everyone and everything. My clothes were sodden and my skin was beginning to prune. I had removed my boots because they provided no protection from the damp. I was encouraged to stay within but the house smelled so strongly of uncured hides and wet fur that it was easier on my nose and stomach to remain outside. For the most part, the citizens of Aeris seemed unaffected by the weather. They went about their business with a crisp orderliness that impressed me.
The cloudy sky brought an early twilight and the blackness of a moonless, starless night quickly descended. Torches and lanterns were lit all around the village. Samell escorted me inside, made me a warm meal that tasted a lot like stew, and encouraged me to get some sleep.
“I don’t know if I can,” I said, trying to get comfortable on the pallet of damp, smelly straw.
“I could sing you a lullaby.”
I smiled at the attempt at humor. Samell so rarely cracked jokes that it was refreshing to hear him try, especially in these circumstances: his girlfriend lost (probably dead), his village readying for battle, and the possibility that his whole way of life would be gone after tomorrow.
As I lay there in the dark, his reassuring presence close by, I found sleep to be hopelessly beyond my grasp. I frequently “checked” on the approach of the earth reavers but, like the proverbial watched pot not boiling, it was difficult to detect changes from minute-to-minute. So I was left alone in my head with my thoughts and worries.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether everything that was happening now was connected to my arrival. Or maybe it was the other way around. The emergence of a force of earth reavers, the appearance of air reavers, the first attack on Aeris in ten generations…even the most devout defender of coincidence would have a hard time denying a relationship between those things and the arrival of a new Summoner. But the question remained: were they happening because I was here or was I here because someone (presumably the man or woman who had called me) knew that I would be needed? In the end, perhaps it didn’t matter. I was here. The earth reavers were coming. And the routine of many lifetimes was about to be ruptured.
I also wondered how widespread this activity might be. It seemed unlikely that only one remote town would be the target of a swarm of earth reavers. Was this one of many orchestrated attacks or was the world at large immune and unaware? What was happening now in NewTown, West Fork, the other hundreds of villages around the land, and the great cities to the east? The elders had sent messages by birds to the closest habitations but it would be days before responses could be expected, if they came at all.
“I can’t sleep,” I finally admitted, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the stillness of the house. Samell and I were the only ones here. Rickard, Lissa, Brin, and Esme were elsewhere, helping with the preparations.
“Scared?” he asked.
“Terrified. We might be facing twenty or thirty or more of those things. You and I both know how hard they are to kill.”
“Thanks to that encounter, we know what to expect. We know what they look like, how they attack, where they’re dangerous, and where they’re vulnerable. Go for the face and neck, not the body.”
“Everything here is just so different from what I know…and I can’t even remember half of what my old life was like. I only have a vague notion of what my mother and father look like and I don’t know whether I have any brothers or sisters. Now, to be here…I’m trying to be brave but…” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He wouldn’t see the tears, of course, but I so wanted to be strong. I needed to be strong. At the moment, though, I didn’t feel like a Summoner. I felt like the lost girl who had awakened alone and confused in The Verdant Blight.
“I’m not frightened,” he said softly. I could tell by the nearness of his voice that he had moved closer t
o me. “Do you know why?”
I stupidly shook my head then realized he wouldn’t see the gesture in the darkness. “Because you’re here. A Summoner. No matter how much you downplay your capabilities, just having you here makes us stronger. Without you, this village would die tomorrow. We wouldn’t have known what was coming. The earth reavers would have taken us unaware and killed us all. Now, because you came, not only are we prepared but we know what it takes to beat them. Janelle, even without swinging that staff, you’ve proven your value. I’ll defend your life tomorrow with all I have and so will everyone else in Aeris.”
Then, unbidden, the tears came.
Eventually, I slept. Like last night’s slumber, it was fitful and I’m not sure I was better for it. My guardians took turns watching over me during the night. After Samell, it was Esme. In contrast to her brother’s calm, she was a bundle of nerves and wanted to talk. I was almost relieved when shy, quiet Alyssa followed her. Rickard was there when I woke up at dawn’s first rays. The storm had blown over during the night and the sun was rising to dry out the morning.
My first probe of the new day confirmed that not only were the earth reavers still there but they were much closer. How close was difficult to determine with precision. Part of the problem was that, in this world, the same units were used for time and distance. A “cycle” represented both a fixed fraction of the day and the distance a normal person could travel during that time. So, although the creatures might only be a couple of miles distant, I suspected (based on their recent rate of movement) it would take at least several hours for them to get here. In terms of “cycles,” I had no idea what that meant.
“Good morning,” said Rickard with a tight smile. “I won’t ask if you slept well since you were tossing and turning the whole time I was here. But at least you slept. Where are they now?”
Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1) Page 10