Retrieving the pendant from beneath her nightshirt, she held up the stone to the light. Can I complete the task alone? She knew without thinking about it that grandfather would expect her to. It was what she’d been trained for. What her father wanted. What her grandfather wanted. But was it what she wanted? Did that matter? She wasn’t supposed to do this alone. She needed him. I have to.
Stars played in the depth of the stone as Sara watched. She closed her eyes and gripped the pendant so hard the edges cut into her hand. “I want my grandfather. I want my life back.” The stone pulsed beneath her touch, making her palm tingle. She dropped it against her racing heart. This was no gentle buzz. What had just happened?
Gingerly, she retrieved the stone. A shadow darkened the blue. A man’s face formed. Red haze blocked his features, but somehow she knew the red was a part of him. Fire? She blinked and the image faded. Taking deep breaths to slow her heart, she dropped the pendant again. Who was he? Was he Siobani? Is that who she was supposed to find? Sara shuddered, her throat dry and her legs weak.
There was more to the stone than met the eye but what, she didn’t know. She’d need answers if she was going to accomplish the task before her. “I don’t know how. I don’t know where to go. Where do I go?” Ocean breezes whipped the words from her mouth and threw them to the stars.
She dropped onto the sand and closed her eyes. She could do this. She could find the Siobani, find the other stone. The quest was the last bit of her grandfather she had left. Why had he died and she survived? It didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t fair. She would find the other stones and make him proud. And then...and then it didn’t matter. “What’s the first step?” The ocean offered no answer.
Grandfather had meant them to stay with Jith and Haboth for a moon to acclimate to the mainland. Nolwen had already offered her a place for as long as she liked. So she’d follow grandfather’s plan as far as she could. He’d mentioned a friend who lived inland but hadn’t revealed his name. She took a deep breath. That was another problem she’d face when she got to it.
A seagull cried overhead and Sara opened her eyes to watch its mournful ballet, pale against the deep sky. Her heart thrummed with the tide until she felt a breaking deep inside and the salt-spray mixed with her tears until it was as if the ocean cried with her.
Unconsciously, she fell into the breathing Willam taught her. At once her world expanded, her heart pulsed with the ocean’s current and the untold, innumerable species of life within its depths, echoing the vastness of the summer night as she danced with the stars, glimpsing distances her mind refused to comprehend.
And then the world slipped and shifted. A flickering red flame materialized. She took a step forward. The flame was beautiful and seemed to promise...something. A wooden door appeared at the end of a dark hall and she knew the man in the pendant was behind it. A hunger to know, to see the man’s face again shocked her in its intensity.
Expectation rustled with the wind. Although the sky remained dark, without looking, Sara knew the sun prepared to rise behind her. Another day. For what? Why was she spared and everything else taken away? She ran cool sand through her fingers as she hugged her knees to her chest. She should go inside before Nolwen woke. The waverider’s wife would be worried if she found Sara gone.
Her grandfather died so she could have her adventure. She’d accomplish what they set out to do or she’d join him in the deadlands.
Part Two
Rebirth
How the extraordinary became ordinary in so short
a time astounded her.
Chapter Three
Sara wiped sweat from her temples with the back of her hand and stifled a yawn. Stepping under the tripod that towered over her head, she grasped one of the smooth branches of its framework and shook it a bit. Solid, well made. If I don’t say so myself. Broad-leafed vines crept up the poles to create pyramids of shade. Sara examined a small, fuzzy green pod. The o’dela vines grew quickly. She hadn’t grown this variety on the island but Nolwen had told her they turned golden yellow when ripe and their flesh was a pale green. But I won’t be here to help with harvest or eat the bounty. She sighed and let the pod drop. The time had flown by. She’d learned to sew and mend nets, but mostly she learned how much she didn’t know.
The constant roar of the ocean drew her attention and she gazed at the dune that hid the water from view. Grandfather, I wish you were here to share this with me, to help me make decisions. It was time to start thinking about heading inland, but she wasn’t sure where to start. Grandfather had planned on staying with a friend, but Sara knew no one. No one save Nolwen and Pierric. She hadn’t even met any of the villagers. Most of the men, including Pierric, were out on their boats, returning exhausted and not in the mind for anything but sleep. The women were tending gardens, children and the sundry details of running a household.
Nolwen was already chattering about the harvest celebration and the fine young men who would be attending. Marrying me off? A home, husband, children. Would it be so bad? She’d often dreamed of such things. Once she and grandfather had completed their task, she imagined they’d settle in a small village, she’d meet a strong and kind man and have children, giving her grandfather another generation he could delight with his stories. The landscape blurred. Grandfather was gone. There would be no more stories. Her neatly ordered future disappeared like the wind. Now what?
The moisture from the newly turned soil had already scurried deeper into the earth, leaving a pale crust behind. Sara rubbed her shoulders. It had taken most of the morning to haul water to the garden.
When she’d tried to explain to Nolwen how much easier it would be to dig a canal from the brook to the garden, the waverider’s wife grew pale and stammered something about good solid labor as though Sara had suggested magic instead of a canal. Her grandfather had said most mainlanders didn’t adjust to change, they labored from sunrise to sunset every day for the span of their lives and when faced with any alteration, any progress from the way their grandfathers and grandfather’s fathers worked, they reacted with more than superstition—almost fear. Changes scared them. She hadn’t quite believed him at the time, but living with Nolwen had convinced her. Who would reject an easier way to grind grains or bring water to the crops? Maybe her grandfather could have convinced Nolwen that change could be good, but Sara hadn’t had any success.
She pulled Ilydearta from beneath her tunic. She’d gotten used to the stone’s slight vibration against her palm. The blue jewel sparkled in the mid-day sun. Since the first time, no images had appeared in the depths of the stone. He doesn’t need to. He visits me nightly. She let the pendant and the thought drop from her grasp. “I can’t just head into the unknown with no plan of action. Where I am to go?” Now I’m talking to inanimate objects. The biggest obstacle to her leaving, one she hadn’t been able to overcome, still puzzled her: everything she owned rested in the depth of the ocean. She had no coin and nothing to trade. How was she to pay for food and lodging?
She yawned again. Lately her sleep had been sporadic, fitful. Full of dreams that stole her peace and left her on edge. Her flesh pebbled despite the warmth of the sun. Images of a shadowed man hazed in red. The man in the pendant. She both dreaded and hoped he’d return to her
as she slept each night. Who is he? What does he want?
It seemed odd to think of him in the light of day, with the sun shining and the ocean’s voice in the background. He belonged to the shadows, to the night.
She had a feeling her grandfather would have warned her about him. Her jaw tightened. Like I’m in charge of my dreams, and besides, he’s not here to warn me about anything. The anger was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving guilt in its wake. It was her fault Grandfather wasn’t there. She was the one who’d wanted to hurry to the mainland.
She wasn’t sure how a dream or image could be dangerous, but every instinct she possessed warned her to leave the shadowed man on the outside of her thoughts.
Through a gap between the green pyramids, a figure approached the house, a sack over his shoulder. Nolwen ran into the yard, a whirl of skirts burying into the man’s arms. Pierric.
Nolwen had spent the morning peeking out the window and finding chores to do near the shore. The couple disappeared into the house. Could she have that one day? Did she even want it? Ilydearta weighed heavy around her neck. “I have a task first.”
The distant woods caught Sara’s gaze, promising relief from the sun. She rescued one of the tortoiseshells hanging at the back of the house. The shell fit neatly against her hip and worked as well as any basket, if a bit heavier. She wished they’d had them on the island.
A riot of flowers bloomed on the hill behind the house and among them herbs she recognized. It had become a habit to collect them whenever she had a spare moment. She needed to replace all the healing herbs she’d lost to the ocean. The act of harvesting, drying and preparing the salves and tinctures made her somehow feel closer to her grandfather. She could almost hear his deep bass recite the remedies to various illnesses.
Shi’ia.
Shame froze her steps. She hadn’t practiced the ancient art since leaving the island. Sara shook her head. It hadn’t been that long, half a moon at most. Her sword was lost to the ocean’s grasp. How was she supposed to practice anyway? Besides, she’d been meditating right before the storm hit. Did I somehow call it? The waves had seemed alive, eager to consume them. Pausing, she closed her eyes to dispel the image of an angry wall of water and her grandfather’s sad eyes. No.
With an act of will, she concentrated on the landscape. Smoke from a nearby chimney rose into the pale blue sky, the only evidence they were not alone with only the ocean for company. Sara reached down to pluck a few flowers she knew Nolwen would like.
Despite her best effort, a sense of unease prickled her scalp and followed her up the gentle slope. Nolwen needed her. Maybe she should find a suitable waverider or craftsman and settle down near the woman. Her stomach churned and acid built in her throat. What was she afraid of? Leaving or staying? She breathed in the warm air tainted even here by the sea’s breath. What was wrong with her? She was restless, uneasy.
Nightly she woke with an image of the shadowed face on the edge of her consciousness. Is that why I’m so curious about him? At least to herself, she’d admit there was something appealing about the man. She wanted him to turn, to find her. She froze. Was that it? Was she waiting for him? Fear iced her limbs, but wasn’t the sole reason for her quickened breath. She wanted to know him. Wanted to be part of who he was. Why am I still thinking about him?
Beneath the shelter of trees, the air cooled. Sara followed the familiar sound of water to a silver ribbon babbling its way over rock and pebble. She sat by the creek and removed her sandals, letting the water cool her feet. Brightly colored dragonflies skimmed the surface, shimmering, darting and slipping through the heavy air. Leaning against a tree, she followed the brook’s progress as it twisted through the shadowed forest to disappear from view. Lacy green ferns bowed over the waters, bobbing in the light breeze as though in greeting. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore. Where was the ambitious girl, eager to accomplish a quest, take on the world, make her grandfather proud? “Two missing stones, one held by mysterious people shadowed in legend, the other lost. Not a lot to go on. For that matter, should I look for the people or the stone?” That was just it. Suddenly the quest seemed daunting, and grandfather? He was gone. A lump formed in her throat. Sara rescued Ilydearta from under her blouse, holding it up to the dappled light.
Leave, Sara.
She spun and crouched, reaching for her missing sword, her gaze darting through the trees. No one shared the forest with her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling she hadn’t been alone a moment before.
Breathing deeply, she brought her heartbeat back to a normal range. A small brown animal scurried toward the water, stood on its furry hind legs sniffing the air.
“It wasn’t you.”
The creature disappeared in a flash. Should she be worried that she was hearing voices? Her grandfather maybe? No. She didn’t think so. Had she imagined it? Maybe.
She stared at the still-swaying leaves that marked the creature’s departure. “I’m an idiot.” Grandfather had warned her she was unwise to the ways of the mainland, but she did know nature and the small creature could have easily been a much larger, hungry beast. There were so many things she didn’t know, but one thing she did. She needed a weapon. “Be practical, Sara.” And the voice? She shook her head. Maybe her grandfather’s spirit was warning her of something. She’d heard tales of such things. Had he found his rest in the deadlands or was he one of the spirits doomed to walk the living lands, seeing but not touching? No. Although a part of her would give anything just to hear his voice again, no god was that cruel. She’d imagined it. It was the only explanation. But she’d learn from it. The skill to craft a sword was beyond her, but she could make a wooden practice sword. Until she found a metalsmith, that would be good enough.
She sighed. She needed to discipline her thoughts. It wasn’t like her to be so jumpy. Indecisive. “Maybe that’s why grandfather had you meditate every day.” Sara glanced around the forest. “And now you’re talking to yourself a bit more than what would be called normal.”
With another sigh, she dropped the pendant against her blouse, sank to the ground and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. The sounds around her dulled as her breathing deepened and slowed. Earth. Fire. Water. Air. Her senses expanded. Small creatures moved carefully through the forest around her but she sensed no danger. Even from a distance, with clarity, she could hear the waves tease the shore. In the forest behind her, a bird called to its mate. Her awareness ebbed and flowed then swelled until she was one with the grass and the water and they were a part of her, the sea moving with her breath, her blood tuning to the river’s flow and her heartbeat harmonized with the soft thrum of the land. She narrowed her focus to a tiny bird, fixing the creature in her mind, picturing its dull brown feathers ruffling, muscles tensing, then following the whisper of its wings as it arced through the heavens, sailing along as it skimmed the treetops to land with precision on a delicate branch. She knew its hunger and satisfaction—so different from hers—as it feasted on tiny insects hiding in the bark of a tree.
Run!
Not a word this time, but an impression. As though spoken by the trees, the animals, the sky.
Grandfather?
No answer, but it hadn’t felt like him. Would it, though? Sara swallowed past a dry throat and opened her eyes. Her position now felt too exposed, too vulnerable.
The hairs on her neck prickled as though she was being watched. She stood, maintaining an outward calm. If there was something out there, running would signal she was prey, and she most certainly was not. It took all of her self-control to retrieve the tortoiseshell and walk slowly down the hill.
With every step she expected to hear the sound of footsteps or paws behind her. That she didn’t see or hear anything didn’t ease the sense that something was following her. Something she wasn’t ready to face.
* * *
The house was quiet as she approached. Sara hesitated then knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” Nolwen called. “No need for formalities, silly girl.”
Blinking, Sara adjusted to the dim light.
Nolwen stood at the table, cutting vegetables for dinner.
“Where’s Pierric?”
“Ah dearie, I put ’im right to bed. Caught himself krage, he has.” Nolwen couldn’t keep the worry from her voice.
Deep barking noises sounded from the other room.
Maybe that was what the warning in the forest was all about. She needed to get home to help Pierric. The thought wasn’t finished before she dismissed it. Something was wrong. Something else.
Pierric coughed again. There was nothing she could do about the vague something in the forest; she could help the waverider. Sara set the shell on the table then looked to the baskets where she kept her herbs and frowned. Nothing in her collection would do.
“I know of something that may help Pierric. Be right back.” Rescuing the forked stick from the shell, Sara smiled at Nolwen’s nod and placed a hand on the door’s handle and froze. She could sense Nolwen’s gaze. How to explain to the waverider’s wife that she was afraid of—that was just it. What was she afraid of? She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Journey of Awakening Page 5