Guardian of the Vale

by Shoemaker,Tamara

  “My apologies, Alayne; I haven't been sleeping well.” He scrubbed his face vigorously with his hands before replacing his glasses. “Come in. The others will arrive shortly.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alayne walked the length of the conference room, sinking into a chair near Manders. Daymon slid into the seat on her other side. Manders fixed his steady gray gaze on her, and the silence stretched into uncomfortable territory. Alayne cleared her throat. “Sir, has this—the struggle for the Vale—has it ever happened before? I know there are always those who want it, but it seems like the world is falling apart over it.”

  Manders smiled. “Ah, Alayne, I do so love history.”

  Alayne's eyebrows rose.

  “You've studied the Deluge, of course; I believe we touched on it in your first semester at Clayborne.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You remember the four Elementals who wanted the Vale's powers so much that they split ownership of it, completing the blood ritual that allowed them to do that, and then in their lust for power, they wreaked havoc all across CommonEarth?”

  “Yes.”

  “The world was another place in some respects, Alayne. It looked different, for sure. Land masses had different formations, water beds another shape. After the Deluge, the world shifted in so many ways, it was nearly unrecognizable. Land bridges were created from one side of the world to the other that had never been there before, and people and creatures relocated and re-inhabited the globe.”

  “How was the world the same?” Alayne asked.

  Manders's steely gaze fixed on her and didn't move. “People are the same, Alayne. Always there are those who want power over the weak and will do whatever it takes to gain it.”

  “Even then, the Vale—”

  Manders nodded. “Even then. World leaders wanted it and wars were fought over it, just as is happening today.”

  “Sir, can I ask—why did you pledge to protect it, then? If the Vale is evil, why have you taken an oath to lay your life on the line for it?”

  “Because it wasn't the Vale that was evil, Alayne, not then. Elemental greed for it is what turned people against one another. Over the course of time, the Vale has taken on some of the characteristics of those who have fought for it, using power in evil ways, and I—” He broke off, his abrupt ending sending a thread of tension through Alayne's stomach.

  “And what, sir?”

  Manders dropped his gaze to his hands where they were folded on the table. “Nothing,” he said, and then continued with a wry smile, “or nothing, that is, that I'm prepared to discuss.”

  Alayne nodded, pushing back her curiosity. The silence once again stretched out. She cleared her throat. “Do—do you think we're ready for battle, sir?”

  Manders shook his head. “If one ever feels ready for battle, one is the most naive, uninformed, and unprepared person there is.” His gaze rested on her face. “It is the ability to cope with battle's uncertainty that ultimately determines the victor. Rest, comfort, and peace are dangerous when life and death choices crop up at any moment. Battle requires absolute alertness in every area of the mind.”

  “Oh.” The word seemed small in response. Alayne fidgeted.

  The chute doors opened again, and several Last Order members filed in. Eryc and Rachyl followed, and last through the doors was a dark-haired man whom Alayne had not seen since the previous year.

  “Luke.” Manders stood and circled the table. The brothers gripped each other in a tight hug, clapping each others' backs. “So good to see you again. No trouble getting in?”

  “None.” Luke grinned. “Good to see you, too, Manderly. Daymon, how are you, kid?” He walked the table's length, pulling Daymon into a hug as Daymon stood.

  Manders smiled. “He's not so much a kid anymore. The boy's matured since you last saw him, saving Alayne's life multiple times.” Pride exuded from him, and Daymon's cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson beneath his tan.

  “I'm glad to see you again, Uncle Luke,” Daymon said. He moved aside as Luke turned his attention to Alayne.

  Luke's eyes were gray, too, and the hair at his temples whiter than Alayne remembered from the previous year. “Alayne Worth.” He smiled gently. “I believe you've grown as well.”

  Alayne placed her hand in Luke's proffered one. “I'm still the same height. My mother never could get me to eat my vegetables.”

  Luke squeezed her hand. “I didn't mean physically.” After a moment, he released her and edged past her to sit next to Manderly.

  Alayne's eyebrows lowered in confusion. What was it about the Guardians that always put her slightly off balance, as though she stood on the wrong end of a weighted scale? Yet while she struggled with the feeling, she also felt more at home with them than with her own family or friends. Her relationship with them fit no one but her, and in that niche, she found equilibrium. She couldn't explain her confusion, even to herself.

  “Let's call this meeting to order.” Manders interrupted her thoughts. “The gap between now and the time we leave for Clayborne is closing quickly, and we must be sure that each of us understands our role in the upcoming battle.”

  He turned on an MIU. A holographic aerial view of Clayborne shot in a wide panorama across the conference room table. It looked nothing like Alayne remembered, surrounded as it was by tree-covered mountain ranges and rifted rivers and lakes. She stared at the spire in awe.

  “Tarry's been busy,” Daymon murmured, his chin resting on his hand.

  Others grunted their agreement.

  “Yes,” Manders said. “This is a form of her defense; we don't know the lay of the land beyond what we've gained from spies and photos. However, the new terrain is not an Alliance advantage, because Tarry and the EA will also be unfamiliar with it. This is brand new landscape, and it offers many possibilities for secret movement on both sides. You know we will depart in two days for Clayborne, but, if all goes to plan, we won't actually engage Tarry's forces until the evening of the third day. Now,” he pulled up a hologram of Eryc and swiped sideways until the boy's face hovered over the northeastern mountains about three miles out from the spire, “Eryc, you'll lead four companies of Last Orders into Clayborne's outer property here, meeting with Rachyl,” another face appeared, “who will bring three companies to join yours. I plan to already be there with Last Orders from headquarters, and we'll continue to Clayborne from there. The rest of the Last Orders will approach from the western side, all of us sweeping as we go for any EA groups. The hope,” he finished, “is that we can time our attack as Jayme, Marysa, and Bryce arrive from the south with the numbers from Cliffsides, effectively surrounding and containing the EA inside our perimeter.”

  “Where will I be, Uncle?” Daymon asked with an edge to his voice. He'd straightened in tense expectation as though preparing for a verbal fight.

  Manders tossed him a look. “You'll be with the western companies, coming in on the opposite side as Alayne.”

  Daymon gripped his armrests. “With all due respect, Uncle Manderly, I'm going with Alayne.”

  “You're not. We've had this discussion, Daymon.” Manders's gray gaze snapped. “You will not question my authority. I've already told you—”

  “But I haven't explained why I can go with Alayne,” Daymon interrupted. “You said going with Alayne presented too much danger, since you expect the Vale to rock the heavens and earth and those closest to her won't survive.”

  Alayne's mouth dropped open. “Professor—”

  “But the Vale can't hurt its Guardians,” Daymon pressed.

  Manders stared at Daymon. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it cannot harm those who've pledged their lives under oath to protect it.”

  The stillness in the room intensified. Alayne's pulse thudded behind her eardrums. Manders actually expected to die—expected those around her to die. She, the possessor of the Vale, was expected to slaughter those around her because of who she was—the Quadriweave. Tears pricked her eyes.

&n
bsp; She couldn't do this.

  “Alayne, is this true?” Manders's voice pulled her thoughts back to the meeting. “Can you not harm a Guardian?”

  Alayne cleared her throat. “N—no, sir. Or at least, I couldn't harm Daymon.”

  Manders's gray eyes gave nothing away. “Try it, Alayne. On me, please, not Daymon.”

  “No, sir,” Alayne gasped, horrified.

  “Alayne, now. Pull an element with the intent of doing me harm.”

  “I couldn't, sir; I—”

  “Now, Alayne!” Manders's voice, which had never raised since Alayne had known him, reverberated through the room.

  Alayne tangled her hand in the element strands and kindled a circle of fire around Manders's chair.

  Several Last Orders leaped to their feet. Gasps and a horrified “No!” sounded in the room. Slowly, Alayne pulled the element, edging the fire toward Manders. The man stared calmly at Alayne. A trickle of sweat ran down his temple.

  The flames smothered out as soon as they touched the chair base.

  Absolute silence flooded the room. Smoke wafted through the air, and Alayne shakily leaned back against her own chair. Most of the people in the room stared at her in awe and consternation. Daymon squeezed her hand.

  A slow smile stretched Manders's face. “Well, that was illuminating. Thank you, Alayne. Daymon, you're free to accompany Alayne into battle. Luke, you'll go with the western flank, and I'll join Daymon and Alayne with the eastern forces.”

  Eryc cleared his throat. “Sir, we've had reports that Tarry's soldiers have dug trenches around the school. Engaging so far out from the spire is going to hamper our efforts to get inside, and ultimately, to find Tarry, who will be holed up behind the strongest guard.”

  “Yes,” Manders said. “Both the eastern and the western flanks will be engaging EA soldiers on the school grounds, and you're right, distance will hamper our efforts. So Alayne and Daymon will break off from the rest of the group and enter the spire alone—”

  “Alone!” gasped Rachyl. “Sir, think—”

  “I am thinking, Rachyl.” Manders's voice was kind but unmoving. “You and Eryc and the western LO forces will be joined—we hope—by the ones Marysa, Jayme, and Bryce bring from the south. Many of them will be angry and eager to fight; those who aren't are free to return to their homes. Even without training, this will be a significant boost to our efforts.” He paused. “We'll surround the spire and contain those inside. Rachyl, once the fighting begins, I'm assigning you to reach the Clayborne tunnels and disable the Shadow-Casters who control the Casted kept there. The battle's chaos will shield your movements. Luke, you'll assist her. Daymon, at all costs, you must get Alayne into the spire and into Tarry's protected inner circle. That's the only way we'll succeed—if we cut off the opposing forces at the root. Tarry has set up her defense via a mind-link with her top commanders. She can Shadow-Cast from her protected circle, and her Cast spreads far beyond the normal span of one Caster. Her disadvantage is if we can break one mind-link, the entire chain breaks. But the Alliance won't surrender until Tarry herself goes down. As Malachi said, Tarry is the Alliance.” He paused, surveying Alayne's face. “Alayne, you'll confront Tarry. Her protection is such that only the Quadriweave can penetrate her defenses. I'm sorry to ask it of you, but there's no other option.”

  The gravity of his words sank into Alayne like the slow seep of water through sand. “I understand, sir.”

  Manders nodded and looked around. “Any questions?”

  “I wasn't finished, sir.” Alayne stood as everyone pulled their attention back to her. “You—Daymon said you expected upheaval around me. Death, and lots of it. That the Vale would rock the elements so much it would put others' lives in danger—not just the enemy's, but Last Orders', too.”

  “It's a hazard of war, Alayne,” Manders began, “but—”

  “I'm not comfortable with it, M—Manderly. When I use the Vale, it costs me.”

  Manders, too, stood, leaning his hands on the table. “What do you mean, Alayne?”

  “I mean that using the Vale is no longer easy. For a while, it had seemed that way, and I've worked hard to hone my skill with the element harp. But lately—”

  “Lately?”

  Alayne took a deep breath and plowed on. “Sir, collapsing the High Court was not my idea. Killing the Air-Masters following us was not my idea. Drowning an entire company of Elemental Alliance soldiers on their way to the Capital was not my idea. I—I can't always control the Vale anymore, sir, and that terrifies me, because the Vale makes me into a monster.”

  Manders said nothing. He glanced at Daymon. “Why haven't you told me about this?” he asked quietly.

  “Don't blame Daymon,” Alayne jumped in. “It was my responsibility to tell you, and he knows that. Manderly, if I lose control in Clayborne's battle, it's possible that I'll not only tear apart the EA ranks, but I might destroy the Last Order, too. I—don't even think I should go.”

  Long silence smothered the room. At last, Manders straightened. “That, Alayne, is out of the question. You'll go to Clayborne. When I say 'at all costs,' I don't mean for our people to fight as hard as possible. I mean at all costs—the cost of lives, yes, but also the cost of power. If the Alliance gains the Vale, there is no chance of survival. None. While you have the Vale, Alayne, even with your doubts and your lack of control, there's still a chance—not only for you, but for Naturals everywhere. That's why you're here, Layne. You're the advocate. You stand between the Naturals and the people who don't understand them and hate them.” He paused, his gaze never leaving Alayne. “If you can't control the Vale during the battle, we'll worry about that then.”

  Alayne plopped into her seat with a frustrated sigh.

  Alayne huddled in a darkened corner of the common room. It was nearly curfew, and most of the room was empty. Overwhelmed by misgivings, Alayne had retreated to the corner and sank to the floor between the arm of the couch and the wall, thankful for the relative privacy.

  She'd closed her eyes when she heard Manders's low undertone in front of the couch.

  “Control is essential to possessing the Vale, Daymon,” he said.

  Alayne's breath hitched, and she held it. From her hiding place, Alayne could see Daymon's profile. He crossed his arms. “I know. But I don't know what to do about it.”

  “Has she—how has she seemed?” The dim light glinted off Manders's glasses. Either man might notice her at any time, but both seemed preoccupied.

  “It terrifies her.” Daymon ran a hand through his hair.

  “It would terrify anyone.”

  “Yes.” Daymon sighed. “What do I do if she asks—”

  “We don't want to go there if we can help it, Daymon. Destruction of something so powerful wouldn't come without a tremendous price.”

  The words hit Alayne hard. Destruction? Daymon had told her she couldn't destroy the Vale, because such an action would kill her.

  Daymon shook his head. “It's not a price I'm willing to pay, Uncle.”

  “Nor am I,” Manders quietly replied. He clapped Daymon's shoulder. “Let's continue to think about this; I dare say it'll look better in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.” Both stepped toward the chute.

  Alayne soon followed, her mind replaying the overheard conversation.

  Alayne turned over in her bed. The room was too warm, part of the insulating effects of living beneath soil and cement, and Alayne nudged the heat element aside, allowing cool air to freshen her heated skin. She blinked her eyes open, staring in frustration at the mirror piece Marysa had given her. She kept it on the shelf at the head of the top bunk.

  “Can't sleep?” Daymon's voice broke the darkness, and Alayne jolted upright in bed.

  “Daymon, don't you ever sleep in your own room?” Alayne hissed.

  “Sure, I do.”

  “Then why aren't you in it?”

  Daymon sighed. Beneath her doorway, a dull glow from the hall torches cast a light, and she coul
d see Daymon stand and approach. He swung himself onto her top bunk and leaned against the wall. “You seemed really troubled tonight, Layne. I felt bad leaving you alone. And,” he hesitated, “truth to tell, my uncle told me to tighten my watch on you.”

  Alayne blinked in the dim light. “Why? Doesn't he trust me anymore? Now that I've told him I can't control the Vale—”

  “Of course, he trusts you, Layne,” Daymon snapped. “How well do you know my uncle by now? But if anything happens to you before the battle, we're screwed.”

  “So he doesn't expect you to sleep until the battle's over? That's not even possible.”

  “Sure it is, if you're a superhero like me.” He grinned, and she thumped him with her pillow. “Hey!” he protested.

  Alayne rested against the wall beside him and crossed her arms. “Are you afraid?”

  “Terrified, but not of the battle.”

  Alayne glanced at him.

  He shrugged. “I'm afraid I'll make a mistake, and someone will get through me and hurt or kill you.”

  “And you'll die,” Alayne finished flatly. “It's not fair, Daymon. None of this is.”

  “Don't you start.” Daymon's voice was hard. He reached over and grasped her chin. “I carried that chip on my shoulder for years, and you saw what it did to me. It may not be fair, but it is what it is, and while I live, no one will hurt you. Do you understand?” His eyes gleamed fierce in the dim glow.

  “I—I do.” Alayne stared at him, her gaze tracing the planes of his face, down his cheeks, over his firm chin, stopping at his lips. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and all the parts of her body that should have been relaxed in sleep jarred awake with liquid heat.

  They said nothing, either of them, but Daymon's grasp on her chin gentled. He slid his hand to her cheek, digging his fingers into the short strands of hair that curled around her ears, his own gaze settling on her mouth, throwing Alayne's thoughts into a whirl. Should she let him close the distance, the six minuscule inches that separated them? She seemed to remember there were many reasons why she shouldn't allow it, but in that moment, she couldn't pull up a single one.