Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1)

by James Berardinelli

  I didn’t say anything. Without my mind-sense, I wouldn’t be able to provide much in the way of scouting help. We’d have to rely on Willem’s tracking - something he appeared to be adept at. It was amazing to consider how valuable an asset he had become when he hadn’t initially been intended as part of our company.

  We made camp for the night in small grove of stunted (but unblighted) trees. Considering how recently the temperatures had been balmy and summer-like, the nights were remarkably chilly with our ever-so-slow progression in elevation enhancing the cooling. At least the fire burned with sufficient vigor to keep us comfortable. We were just drifting off to sleep when we were startled into remembering how much we had come to rely on my ability to sense dangers from afar.

  At first, I didn’t know what was happening. Jolted out of the twilight between wakefulness and slumber, I at first thought the chaos around me was part of a dream. It took a few moments to discern the reality. Willem, who had been standing first watch, was facing something in the darkness, sword drawn, while Ramila and Samell had assumed places to his left and right. The inimitable half-growl/half-scream of an earth reaver told me what they were up against. Black on black, the darkness camouflaged it but there was enough firelight for my companions to discern its shape. Samell and Ramila had taken up purely defensive positions. Willem was the aggressor. Samell’s previous encounters with reavers had given him an understanding of their weaknesses that he exploited, using quick, well-timed thrusts then jumping back out of the way of the whiplashing tongue.

  I didn’t doubt that the three would be able to defeat a single member of the undulating species but there could be more out there and killing one would wear down their stamina. I hoped I might be able to put a quick end to the encounter without compromising my health. I knew enough by now to estimate how much magic I could control without inviting a headache. As long as I didn’t push my limits, I would be okay. Maybe a little bolt of fire… It had worked in Aeris. No reason why a similar (but more controlled and limited) display couldn’t help now.

  I reached for the magic…and couldn’t find it. Panicked, I tried again with equally dismal results. The ability that had allowed me to refine emotions into malleable magical energy was gone or, at the very least, beyond my grasp. Ever since I had first become aware of this skill, it had been reliably accessible, even in the wake of a headache…until now. My mouth went dry with fear - not fear that the reaver was going to kill us, but fear of what this meant for me, our group, and everything else.

  Displaying a dogged persistence born of desperation, I kept trying and kept failing. Like my mind-sense, my magic had deserted me. I was still standing there, ashen faced and stricken, when Samell came to my side and Willem and Ramila scouted to see if there were other reavers nearby. The others had taken up positions around the camp’s perimeter, straining to penetrate the darkness with their vision and identify any dangers that might be lurking out there. Our ears detected only the normal sounds of the as-yet moonless night.

  Shaken, I sat down hard. I hadn’t felt this inadequate since the early days when I had been naked in The Verdant Blight. In this world, in the absence of a full catalog of memories, magic had come to define me and now it wasn’t there. Had lost it? Was it gone for good, corrupted beyond repair? Or was this a temporary aberration caused either by my pushing too close to my limits or having my mind invaded by an outside presence? Something had disturbed whatever internal mechanism allowed me to access powers available to Summoners.

  “It was only the one,” said Samell, misunderstanding the foundation of my current state. “Willem will make sure there are no others but this doesn’t appear to be a member of a larger pack.” His voice was firm, confident. Had my own crisis not been so acute, it would have cheered me. More than anything, my companions needed to win a battle without magical interference. They had gotten that but not because I had used restraint.

  “I’ve lost my magic.” The words sounded distant and forlorn, the wail of a helpless child.

  “Like the other times?”

  “No. This hasn’t happened before. The headaches have always wiped away my mind-sense for a while but the magic has been there. But not now.”

  “I’m sure it will come back.” His tone conveyed sympathy but no real concern. He was convinced that things would right themselves. But he couldn’t feel the emptiness gnawing at me. Something was wrong. An inner instinct told me that this wasn’t normal. I felt sure that if Backus was here, his face would wear that expression of worry and consternation it donned only when he was faced with a serious dilemma.

  For the next half-hour as Willem and Stepan did a thorough check of the vicinity, I sat with Samell. Sensing that what I needed more than words was a gentle presence, he put an arm around me and allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long while, I realized how thoroughly exhausted I was. It wasn’t just the good, wholesome tiredness that came from doing a hard day’s work. This was deeper and more pervasive. It went to the soul.

  “All clear. Whether that one was just a stray or some sort of advance scout, we can’t know,” said Willem upon his return, enunciating each word carefully to make sure he was using the right ones. “We’ll double the watch but I think we’ll be okay for the night.”

  Despite all the dark thoughts haunting me, I fell asleep almost immediately and my night’s rest was uninterrupted. I woke shortly after dawn when Esme lightly shook me by the shoulders. “Time to get up. Gabriel wants to start moving. He wants to get as far away from that” - she pointed at the remnants of the earth reaver, lying just beyond the camp’s clearing - “as we can. Get into the foothills before night, search a little, and camp there. He thinks Bergeron will have built his home close to the river so that’s where we’ll start.”

  It was as good a plan as any. I just wished I could be more enthusiastic about it. My slumber had cured the outward signs of fatigue but I was soul-sick. Without access to my magic, I felt worse than useless. When we had set out on this quest a few days ago, I had felt certain that finding Bergeron would be the solution. Now, so much that had seemed possible in West Fork had become a vapor dream. Yet all these good people stayed with me, believed in me. However deep my personal doubts might be, I couldn’t burden them with those.

  The closer we got to the mountains, the more aware I became of how immense they were. Looking up at them from even miles away was dizzying. By mid-day, the peaks had eclipsed the sun. Traveling in those long shadows and with our elevation climbing, it was becoming increasingly chilly. Even my cloak wasn’t equal to the task of keeping me warm. Back home, I would have opted for a lined leather jacket or even a winter coat. Here, I had to make due. I was far from the closest L.L. Bean.

  Gabriel’s path, which had brought us directly west, gradually turned to the north as the terrain became rockier. By the time he called for a halt to the day’s journey, I could hear the distant roar of a river even though I couldn’t see it.

  “We may have to cross it eventually,” he said in answer to my question about whether it would block our way. “Not sure how we’re going to do it since I doubt there’s a fording point anywhere near here. This far west, it’s deep and rough. Maybe Bergeron set up his home south of the river. Worst case, I suppose you could always use your magic and fly us to the other side.”

  My response was a wan smile. Everyone knew I didn’t have my mind-sense. Only Samell knew the full depth of what I had lost during the battle with the soul-ripper.

  “I don’t want to get too close to the river on our first night in the area. We don’t know what animals might be lurking nearby and the terrain is getting unfriendly. Bad things happen on riverbanks in the dark, especially near game trails. Better to stop here and start fresh after daybreak. We’ll have good sun in the morning.”

  As the others were busying themselves setting up camp, Samell said something to Esme before approaching me. “Walk a little ways with me.”

  For a moment, I though
t he was going to take my hand but he kept his distance. I fought down a sudden and altogether unexpected pang of disappointment. As we strolled a little way from the newly cultivated fire, I could feel eyes on us. Some, like Alyssa and Stepan, were no doubt wondering what we might have to say to one another that excluded the rest of the group. Others, like Willem, wanted to make sure we didn’t stray too far in an area where the threats hadn’t yet been catalogued.

  “You think you failed,” said Samell when we were out of earshot of the others. “We all feel it - a sense of despair that’s never been there with you, not even after the attack on Aeris or the horror at NewTown.”

  I nodded. Failure. It weighed on me like a millstone.

  “The problem with having power and authority - not that I’d really know - is that those who have it can easily be overwhelmed by a mistake.”

  “When you make a mistake, the day’s hunt goes poorly or a section of the crops wither. When I make a mistake, an entire village might pay the price. We both know that what happened at NewTown isn’t going to be isolated. The reavers aren’t going to stop there.” I paused before saying the next words. They were harsh but needed to be spoken. “It may have already happened at Aeris.”

  It was his turn to nod. “It may have. We’re too far away to know and communication between West Fork and Aeris has never been robust. But don’t you think there’s a little arrogance in what you’re saying? That you and you alone represent the difference between salvation and extinction? If you had been at NewTown, we don’t know that you could have saved them. More likely, you would have been overwhelmed and killed. Thinking of yourself as a tool devalues you as a person. There’s more to you than just the ability to use magic. I’ve known that since I helped you out of the river, before we suspected you were a Summoner.

  “The magic is gone now but it will probably come back. And if it doesn’t, we’ll cope without it. You aren’t defined by your powers, Janelle, any more than you are by your memories. But you think you are.”

  My response was tinged with bitterness. I knew he was only trying to be kind and pragmatic but he couldn’t see the situation from my perspective. “It’s easy for you to say that. My memory, like my identity, is fragmented. In becoming a Summoner, I found something to cling to - something that made it less important to remember who I was. If I’ve lost that, I don’t have anything.”

  “If your magic is gone, and I don’t for a moment believe it is, then you’re just like the rest of us - people standing against whatever is trying to tear apart our world. You still have your voice and your intelligence. You’ve survived an experience none of us could imagine and did so with grace and calm. With or without magic, you’re still our leader and we’ll follow you. We don’t do that out of obligation but friendship and affection.”

  After saying that, he touched my shoulder in a gentle sign of support then returned to the others. I followed in his wake, disturbed as much by what he had said as by the vehemence with which I had resisted his counsel.

  Samell’s words stayed with me through the late afternoon and into the evening. His rebuke stung and, even though it had been delivered with more tact than I could have managed, its accuracy was undeniable. It forced me to admit that my current mood was caused in no small part by self-pity - not the most admirable of qualities. It was counterproductive to mourn what I had lost. The goal was to move forward with what I had and, if possible, recover my magic. To that end, I had to find Bergeron. The objective hadn’t changed even if the need for finding the Summoner was greater than it had ever been.

  Our campfire discussions focused on strategies for locating a hermit. No one knew our quarry’s exact location. Rumors suggested that he had erected a small, well camouflaged fortress somewhere in the foothills. Gabriel believed it was close to the river since such a location provided obvious advantages.

  “The big question is whether he’ll permit himself to be found,” said our guide. “If he wants to stay hidden, does he have the power to block attempts to locate him?” The question was directed at me but I didn’t have a good answer. I was little more capable of evaluating Bergeron’s talents and limits than any of our group.

  “Possibly. One of the reasons we’re looking for him is to find out things about the limitations of a Summoner’s powers. It’s hard for me to imagine what he might be able to do after having studied and practiced magic-use for decades.”

  “Could you do it?” asked Esme. “Hide yourself, I mean.”

  Right now, I couldn’t do anything. But I didn’t say that. “I can understand a way it might be done but it would require constant concentration and, even then, it would be imperfect. We have to assume that, if Bergeron doesn’t want to be found, we won’t be able to find him. We have to hope he’s aware of how serious the situation is and is willing to reach out to us.”

  It wasn’t the best plan. Everyone knew that. But, especially with my powers curtailed, there wasn’t anything more we could do. We knew Bergeron had lived out here for countless years and no one had found him. Of course, it didn’t seem like many people had gone looking for him.

  Once it came time to lie down for the night, I had regained a semblance of equilibrium. Samell’s pep talk had driven back some of the negativity ingrained in my personality. The distant sound of the river and the gentle light of one of the moons lulled me to sleep. When I awakened the next morning, I was immediately aware of three things: my magic was still gone, my mind-sense had returned, and our situation was dire.

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Smoke Signals

  We weren’t in imminent peril but the danger was large, apparent, and growing. To the northwest, deep within The Southern Peaks, a cluster of earth reavers was massing. It wasn’t big enough to qualify as an army but it dwarfed the force that had attacked Aeris. At the moment, the reavers weren’t moving but, when they decided to act, there were likely enough to overrun West Fork, if that was their goal. If, instead, they went north to Aeris, the village would have no chance. Even if I was there with my magic intact, I doubted I could make much of a difference.

  The others needed to know. Our previous sense of urgency was nothing compared to what it needed to be.

  “I can see again,” I whispered to Samell.

  “And the other thing?”

  I shook my head in the negative. It was odd that my magical abilities hadn’t returned with my mind-sense but all I could do was accept what had been given back to me. At the very least, it made us less vulnerable, or at least more aware of how precarious our situation was.

  In addition to the reavers, I was conscious of a distant, nebulous apparition somewhere in The Rank Marsh. I assumed it to be the soul-ripper or its remnants. Its puissance diminished, it wouldn’t be a danger unless we wandered deep into the marsh’s waters. Over time, it might redevelop into a threat but, at the moment, it could safely be ignored. As for Bergeron…my mind-sense detected no evidence of his presence.

  “How many?” asked Willem after I finished briefing my companions.

  “It doesn’t work like that. She can’t count individuals,” said Ramila.

  I nodded my agreement. “I can feel strength and that hints at numbers. It’s a large group, much larger than the one that attacked Aeris. As to how many? At least a hundred, maybe more. If I was closer, I’d be able to make a better guess but they’re pretty far away.” Just not far enough.

  “And you’re sure they’re earth reavers?” asked Gabriel

  “I know their signatures by now. It’s like recognizing a smell or taste.”

  “They may be planning to strike at Aeris again!” Stepan’s voice was tinged with alarm.

  “It’s possible,” I conceded. “Or they could be mounting an attack on West Fork. Or planning something altogether different. There’s no way to guess their intentions until they move. If they come east, there’s no way the eight of us can stop them. We need to find Bergeron.” Would even his magic be enough?

  “We need to warn West Fork,” s
aid Gabriel. “They can send a rider to Aeris. It doesn’t matter whether the reavers are moving or not. They’re a cocked arrow pointing at our villages and a warning needs to be issued. The more time they have to prepare, the better the chance they might survive.”

  I didn’t say anything but I knew he was right, although “survival” in this case probably meant “evacuation”. It would be irresponsible not to send immediate word to West Fork. I couldn’t control what the leaders did with the information but they needed to have it. Still, finding Bergeron was of equal, if not greater, importance. We were going to have to split the party.

  “I’ll go,” said Gabriel. “I’m of no further use here. I’ve guided you as far as I can. Bergeron’s exact location is as much a mystery to me as you.”

  As brave as the offer was, I wasn’t about to send a one-armed man through the wilds back to West Fork on his own. The way looked safe at the moment, but that was here and now. There was no telling what it might be like in another day, and there were normal animals that could put an end to his trip as easily as a reaver or a soul-ripper. Eventually, maybe Gabriel would learn to fight one-handed but he was only weeks away from having lost the limb and, despite his grit and resolve, he wouldn’t be able to effectively defend himself.

  The optimum choice to accompany Gabriel was Willem. In a fight, he was worth at least two of the rest of us, possibly more. But, perhaps selfishly, I wanted him with me. His advice was as valuable as his sword-arm. He was also a seasoned traveler, although not in this part of the world, and a calming influence on the mercurial Ramila. The next best option was Stepan. Although he didn’t know the terrain, he was capable with both sword and bow and had shown himself to be a reliable companion. I also suspected that he wouldn’t be averse to returning to West Fork to see how his injured friend Octavius was recuperating.