by Fran Jacobs
"I would like to see your pictures," Hazel said. "Do you have any with you?"
"No," I said. "They're at home. They're not something I thought to bring with me."
"No," Hazel laughed. "I guess not. I have mine, though, if you'd like to see them?"
"Yes, I would. I like seeing how other people draw the world around us, how they interpret it."
"Good," Hazel murmured. She lifted her head and smiled at me, her lips were open and there was a soft, hazy look in her eyes. "You could come by my room, tonight, if you want, and I'll show them to you then? You could even stay ...?"
I could only stare at her and my jaw dropped open. Hazel was smiling at me and her hand was on mine, stroking gently. There was a faint touch of blush to her cheeks, but her eyes were bright and strong. I swallowed nervously. "I-it's not proper," I croaked out at last.
Hazel laughed, her warm and earthy laugh. "Not proper?" she said. "Candale." Her smile faded and her eyes became wary. "Candale," she said very slowly, almost a breathy whisper. "Are you, I mean, you've never ... been with ..." She flushed.
"No," I said. I turned away, but I could still feel her eyes on me as I stared into the flowerbed ahead, focusing my eyes on one wilting plant in particular. It looked like lavender to me. "I-it is my choice. People have offered, w-women, and even men, b-but ..." I flushed deeply and squirmed where I sat. "It has never felt right," I said finally. "I've never even kissed anyone. I-I've just not met anyone I feel ready to do anything like that with yet, I guess."
"Oh," Hazel said softly, and I could hear the disappointment in her voice. "But I do understand, Candale." She gave a faint laugh. "You're going to disappoint a lot of people, you do know that, don't you?"
"No," I said. "What do you mean?"
"Just that there are a fair number of people here, other than myself, who would jump at the chance to be with you, Candale. Trellany and Teveriel, too. The three of you have caused a bit of a stir, didn't you know that?"
"No," I said, feeling my face flush. "No, I didn't."
"Two new attractive young men and one attractive, albeit, older woman, all arriving together, and so mysteriously, how could it not cause a stir? No one has really stopped talking about you since you arrived. And there have been arguments, too, over which of the two boys is the most attractive, who thinks they have the best chance of getting anywhere with any of you ..." Her cheeks coloured. "And other things that I'm not going to repeat. So, yes, people are going to be disappointed when they find this out about you, just as I am. But I do understand and I think it's nice, romantic, that you want to get to know the other person, not rush into bed with them." She patted my hand. "I'll bring the pictures to your room instead. That way, you can have one of your two chaperones around to protect your honour." She laughed brightly and leaned her head back against my shoulder. "But I do still like you, Candale. I hope that doesn't bother you? That I won't give up."
"No," I said awkwardly, not really sure what else I could say, "of course not." This was the first time anyone had propositioned me, not knowing who I really was. I couldn't pretend that she wanted to sleep with me because I was a prince, because she didn't know. Hazel really did like me. She really did! She thought I was attractive and, to hear her talk, others thought so, too. And this was while she thought I was recovering from some sort of narcotics addiction and was still somewhat thin and pale. It was flattering to hear but it made me feel so uncomfortable.
"Gods, I hope you don't think that I'm some sort of whore," Hazel said sombrely. "I don't bed just anyone."
"Hazel," I said slowly, "you can sleep with whoever you wish. It's your life, and your body. I-I'm just not ready to do the same." Her eyes were doubtful, so I took her hand in mine. "No, I don't think that you're a whore." No, she wasn't a whore, but I was a liar. Would she still care what I thought of her when she knew who I was? Would she even want to talk to me? I didn't want to think about it. I needed to change the subject. I scuffled my feet, digging a small hole in the gravel with the toe and heel of my boot. "Why is it called White Oaks?" I asked finally.
"I'll show you," Hazel said happily, not seeming to care at all that I had changed the subject, and she dragged me off into the overgrown garden.
And appearing out of nowhere, all of a sudden, standing out in the fading morning mist, like three tall, white ghosts, were the white oaks the school was named after. I couldn't believe it at first, the way that they were just standing there, so innocently, naked like all the other trees in the garden only, they were a milky white colour, almost tinted blue in some places. They were huge, magnificent and clearly very old, a good few centuries at least. I wondered what it would be like to climb those trees, to nestle safely into those white branches and to look down on the gardens from above.
"Oh," I whispered in awe. "Oh, my gods!" Hazel beamed as I moved to press my fingers against the snow white bark, feeling it, stroking it, just to convince myself it was real, and when I got a splinter in my finger, a pure white sliver of wood, I was convinced. "Gods," I whispered again, and frowned distractedly at the splinter in my fingers. "How is this possible?"
"There are stories," Hazel said, taking my finger in her hand. She placed her fingertips against it and I felt a brief sense of heat, of fire, just burning the tip of my finger. When she gave me back my hand, the splinter was gone. "That many people were killed here and the trees turned white in mourning, or that these are mystical faerie trees, planted by the fey as a gift to mankind." She dropped to her knees, rummaging thought the snowy leaves that lay curled and crumpled around the base of the tree. "In reality this is a node point." At my blank look she explained, "A centre point where lines of magic energy, beneath the earth, cross. Usually you will get just two lines crossing and it doesn't really do anything to the plants and so forth. A mage will sense it and a particularly sensitive person might as well, but there's no visible sign." She got to her feet. "This, however, is a point where four lines cross, so it's very powerful and it turned the oaks white. Hold out your hand." I did so, quizzically, and she dropped an acorn onto my palm. It was the colour of snow, a tiny white seed. "I always wondered what would happen if an acorn from this tree was planted somewhere else. Would it grow into a white tree, or would it be a normal oak? Would it even grow at all? Take the acorn home with you, Candale, and plant it. Then let me know what happens!"
I grinned at her and slid the white acorn into my pocket. "I will," I said, gazing back at those high white branches. "This is so amazing. You're right these gardens are beautiful. I would love to see it again, when the flowers are in bloom and there is scent and colour everywhere."
"Well, you'll have to come back and visit me then, won't you?"
"Yes," I said. "I'd love to."
"Good. Now, that's decided, let's go back inside. I'm getting hungry."
I let her lead the way back, as I had no idea where I was or which direction was the way back. I was completely lost. But Hazel knew exactly and soon the first of the two flights of stone steps were in sight.
We climbed them slowly, taking our time. Although the frost had mostly melted, they were still dangerous and worn away and I didn't want to fall and break any bones.
As I was reaching the top of the first flight, just before that avenue of trees, I got a sudden head-rush and bright stars danced painfully before my eyes. I stopped walking and rubbed at them, feeling the world spin around, although I couldn't see anything.
"Candale?" Hazel touched my arm. "Are you all right?"
"Head-rush," I told her, and tried to laugh it off, only there was a sudden ringing in my ears and my head had started to pound and, with all the spinning that the world seemed to be doing, my stomach began to heave as though I really was in motion. I felt bile rise up in my throat and even tears in my eyes.
There was a sudden rush, as though everything was falling around me...
And slowly my vision cleared.
I was no longer in the garden at White Oaks.
I w
as standing alone on scorched grass, surrounded by tall, grey stones set out into a circle. The sky above was grey and cloudy and it was drizzling. Rain ran down my face, clouding my vision.
I took a step forward and then another one, my feet moving beyond my control, squelching on the sodden grass, sinking a little into the rain-soaked earth. I was moving towards the centre of the stone circle and, as I walked, I was sure that I could see flickering images out of the corner of my eyes, yet when I turned my head, those images were gone. They were people, I was sure of it, men, women and children. Some of them were crying, others were screaming, some were begging for mercy. I could hear them, a loud shrill cry, a heart-pulling whimper, a groan of misery, a sorrowful beg, and then the sound was gone, slipping out of my ears as surely as the figures slipped from my eyes.
And still I walked on towards the centre of the circle and the flat stone that lay there.
As soon as I reached it, something seemed to happen, and everything around me began to change. The rain stopped and sky cleared, becoming a warm summer's day, and the scorched grass was suddenly littered with all the bodies of the flickering figures I'd seen. Body upon body, limb upon limb, were piled high. Blond hair, brown hair, black hair, all mingled together, stained with blood. Eyes were open, fixed to the sky, glazed over, and grey-green organs were sprawled across the ground, torn free from their too fragile casing of skin and muscle. The blood was congealed and sticky, staining pretty dresses and plain tunics, marking blue-tinged flesh with its red taint. It reminded me of a play fight I'd had with Aylara once, when we were very young, following an afternoon of painting. Giggling we had thrown expensive paints and inks at each other, covering my bedchamber floor, expensive tapestries and each other, in dark reds, blues and greens. This was the sight before me, only it was blood and organs, not paint, that covered these people.
Sprawled on the stone in front of me lay the naked figure of a boy, his hands and feet bound with rope so tightly that it had cut into his flesh. His eyes were fixed to the summer's sky above and those eyes were filled with despair and panic. They were blue eyes, desperately pleading, even in death, as they stared upwards past me, unseeing. His pale throat had been cut.
Above his head, carved clearly into the cold stone, was the symbol for protection. It was filled with blood.
Everything swirled around me again, a dizzying sense of falling, and I came around, lying on my side at the top of the first flight of stairs, freezing cold and unable to move without all my muscles screaming out in pain. I was crying. I could feel the tears running down my face painfully and I'd been sick. I could taste it, in my mouth, and my throat burned with it, while my ears rang. Hazel was holding my hand, stroking at my hair and she was wiping my mouth with a soft white handkerchief.
"It happened," I whispered, more of a hiccup. "It happened."
"What happened?" Hazel asked me anxiously.
"I-I had a vision." I closed my eyes. "I had a vision." I started to laugh and even to my ears the sound was somewhat hysterical. "A vision!"
"Candale-" Hazel soothed my hair. "Can you stand?" I shook my head, lips pressed firmly together. "Candale-" She sounded helpless and lost.
"Vision," I muttered. My mouth was thick with vomit, which I spat out. "Had a vision. Saw things, not real things. People. Dead people." I rubbed my eyes. "Gods, a vision! And next there will be voices and then madness..."
"Trellany said that might happen, that hallucinations were one of the effects of the withdrawal."
I just laughed, laughing while I cried. I wished that was all it was, an after-effect of some strange sort of drug, but it wasn't. It was a vision. I was the Shadow Seer and I'd had my first vision and it had happened here, in the cold gardens, and now I couldn't move. Would it always be like this? Would I have a vision and find myself on the ground, in so much pain, and so very cold, with just drawing breath an agony? Was this going to be my life? Living in fear of these visions that hurt so much more than any fit ever had. I couldn't live my life like this. I couldn't stand it!
And the tears kept flowing.
"I-I'll get help," I heard Hazel say. "Candale ..." I heard the sound of her feet as she ran away from me. It echoed and seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath my head, pounding inside my skull.
It started to snow and I lay there, crying and laughing. Every one of those delicate white flakes, landing on my skin, felt like a small explosion of heat and pressure that made me cry out, before they melted into nothing and the pain eased. As those gentle flurries of snow became a proper snowfall, the pain grew more intense. I was soon screaming, gasping, struggling to draw air in through my nose, barely able to move at all.
"Candale," the voice was familiar, and worried. "Candale." Then Teveriel was squatting down beside me. All I could see were his boots, but I recognised his hands, which hung between his spread knees as he sat there on his haunches. "Can you stand?"
"Vision," I said. "I had a vision."
"Candale-" Teveriel moved away. I heard voices and the next thing I knew I was pulled up to my feet. The hands on my flesh hurt, were like hot grips of iron, unbreakable, burning, and I writhed and gasped. "Have to get you inside, Candale," Teveriel told me. "Sorry if it hurts you." He touched my forehead gently with his hand, but it seemed to scald my skin, he was so warm. "Don't cry."
"Don't touch me then," I snapped. "Let go."
"Can you walk?" His grip loosened and my knees buckled. "No. You can't. And I'm not going to carry you because I don't think it's a good idea to draw too much attention to you. Silver, help me here, please." Another set of hands gripped me. The pain of their touch was so incredible that the world began to swim and my stomach heaved again. I was going to be sick. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to be sick and die.
"C-cold," I gasped. "It's so damn c-cold!"
"It's snowing," Teveriel told me. He laughed, but it was forced and pained. "You're covered in it, Dale. Like a snowman."
"Let's get him inside," I heard Hazel say, almost a cry of pain.
They took me inside, moving at my speed, which was a snail's crawl of pain. Silver took me on one side, Teveriel on the other, and they both did their best to hold me up without hurting me. Hazel walked backwards in front of us, eyes on me the whole time. She opened doors for us and I could see that she wanted to touch me, that she was concerned, but I didn't care about her pity for me. I just hurt so much. Every touch hurt, my muscles ached, and I was so cold I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering and my body from shivering. Everything that Teveriel and Silver did to try and help just added to it. Their hands created painful sore spots where they gripped me, and their soft voices rang in my ears, making my head ache.
The pain eased, suddenly, midway back to my rooms. One minute it had been there, and my world had been a dizzying rush of endless burning sensations, the next it was gone and I felt light-headed and free. It was such a relief that I almost started to cry all over again, but no tears would come. My face was sore, my head was pounding, but the pain in my body had gone.
The cold had not.
Teveriel and Silver sat me down in front of the fire, which Teveriel then stoked up until it was a wild gold creature, dancing and crackling away in the hearth. He took off my boots and helped me from my damp coat, while Hazel went to fetch some blankets that she piled up around me until I was almost drowning under the thick wool. But it didn't help and I sat beneath the layers shivering.
"Where's Trellany?" Silver asked.
"She went out looking for Dale," Teveriel said softly. "And not in the best mood either." He came towards me and dropped to his knees. "Tears stopped?" I nodded. "Feeling better?"
"C-cold," I told him. "Really, really c-cold." Teveriel frowned and tugged a blanket up around my shoulders. I could see the reflection of my face in his eyes. I looked so pale, and drawn. I sank down beneath the blankets, turning away from the image of my own face. "T-think t-this will happen to me every time?" I gasped. "T-the head rush? T-the pain? T-the c-cold?
"
"I don't know, Candale," Teveriel said. "I really hope not. This is new grounds for me, for us all." He straightened. "Hazel, Silver, thank you for this, for helping me, but can you leave us? I think Candale should rest."
"No!" Hazel gasped, but Silver took her arm.
"We will come by tomorrow," he said. "Candale ..." Then he shrugged; what could he say? Without another word he led Hazel, firmly, from the room.
"A vision," Teveriel said. "Do you want to talk about it? Or wait until Trellany returns?"
"Neither," I said. I closed my eyes, shivering. "W-want to get w-warm. Why can't I get w-warm?"
"You were out in the snow for a good half an hour, Candale," Teveriel told me. "I wasn't in the suite when Hazel came, I was in the library. I came as soon as I could, but it was still a while from when Hazel left you until we got you in here."
"You w-were with C-Calran."
"Yes." He sat down opposite me. "We just talk, Candale. I'm trying to find out what I can for you, while we talk." I wondered why he felt the need to add that, to try and explain to me what it was he was doing in the library. Did he think I was jealous? And was I? Yes, I probably was and the fact that Teveriel had realised it made me a little uncomfortable. What kind of man must he think me if I got jealous just because he had things of his own to do?
"Have ... have you learnt anything m-more?" I whispered instead.
"Some," Teveriel said. "Well, I know what Ellenessia is."
"You d-do?" I struggled to sit up, wincing as my muscles cried out in protest. "What? W-what is it?"
"It's a name. I was going to tell you all this when I saw you tonight, but I suppose now is as good a time as any."
"A-a name?"