Silver Eve

by Sandra Waugh

  “Then we are even.” I sloshed out of the pond, dragging my clothes behind. “Should these wisps return, I’ll know how to stop them.”

  “They will not stop.”

  “But you have just said. Easy enough to get rid of.” I was impatient, pretending to be calm when I was not calm. I wanted to go. I’d had enough challenges this night.

  “Wisps are the least of our worries.” The Rider was matter-of-fact. “They can raise the earth and build firestorms, gather the most vicious creatures, or pull the worst from humans—”

  “They?” I’d misunderstood. “Who are they?”

  “Breeders. They will find you. They will not stop.”

  The tiniest breeze ruffled over us. I said, “You found me, Rider Laurent. Are you one of these Breeders who will not stop?”

  “No.” He made the slightest hesitation, as if confused that I suggested it.

  “Then how did you find me?”

  The Rider looked up over my head toward the pond and said softly, “Moonlight on water brings Nature’s daughter.”

  The breeze chilled my skin. Moonlight on water… ’Twas what the seer had said. I turned around. There the sinking moon carved a path of silver straight across the water. From where I stood at water’s edge it trailed right to my feet.

  I looked back at him, then shivered. He asked suddenly, “Do you not know who you are, my lady? What it is we fight? Can it be that no one has told you?”

  I said, “I am a Healer.” A tainted one by now, but I kept that to myself. “I do not fight.”

  It was not enough. “Your cousin returned to Merith not long after the battle with the Troths. She didn’t speak to you?”

  “Lark was wounded, and when she was better—”

  “You left.”

  I looked away. “There wasn’t time to talk…of much.”

  “Then, my lady, where are you going?” the Rider asked softly. “Do you know?” A second shiver rippled over my skin, but not from the breeze. His voice was rich.

  I hadn’t answered, so he asked another: “Do you think your cousin, Lark, is still in Merith?”

  I said, “I think she is with one of your Riders. Gharain.”

  “She is.”

  “Except…I saw walls, a castle.” I couldn’t help telling it, for the image of Lark at home there was so strange. I glanced at him. “ ’Twas not what I imagined for her.” Or for the Riders.

  But Laurent was frowning. “What do you mean ‘saw’?”

  “I made a spell. I saw Lark in a castle. And she saw me.”

  In the barest hint of dawn, Laurent’s face went dark. He took a slow breath; his hand found the hilt of his sword. “So that is what the queen meant in her message, why they come so quickly.”

  “Who? These Breeders? What queen?”

  “Your spell—’twas not luck they found you, you opened passage for them. We need to leave here.” He looked around, realizing I’d undone all his packing, and shook his head, muttering, “We stay at the ready…. ”

  I didn’t move. “ ’Twas what Lark said. ‘The Breeders come.’ ”

  “And they do. The wisps were nothing.” He’d packed his food items and was already rolling his cloak with quick, efficient moves. “You should not have worked any spell. ’Twas foolish. Leave off your gown and cloak; they’re too wet. We’ll fix them to the saddle.” He picked up the bridle.

  I was piqued by his reprimand. “Did you not understand? I make my own way.”

  “To where? For what purpose?” Laurent fed the bit between Arro’s teeth, murmuring to him, “More stubborn than her cousin.”

  “I bid you not to follow!”

  He only tossed over his shoulder far too matter-of-factly, “I do not follow. I accompany.”

  This was all wrong. I rued my spell making, but it was not for Laurent to say. If these Breeders wanted to punish me for overstepping my Healer rank, so be it. But I could hardly travel with this Rider, salting raw memories. And that he did not ask—as if there would be no issue of him coming with me! While he saddled his horse I picked up my sopping clothes and satchel.

  “You erred, my lady. Now the dangers will be fast one upon the other,” Laurent was saying. He heard me leaving, called a little louder: “If you stop one terror, the Breeders will use another, and another, until they have you.” I ignored him and walked away.

  Laurent called again in warning this time, and so I walked faster, disturbed more by the sound of his voice than the threats he described. It was like a balm, his voice.

  And then he was coming after me, feet drumming the earth, so I said fiercely without turning: “Know that if you force your companionship, I will escape. Just as I know how to heal, I know as well how to hurt.”

  Maybe he already knew that. Laurent slowed but kept pace behind me, silent. Then he said simply, “I cannot force, it is a choice. Do you insist on being alone?”

  “I do.”

  “Then”—his hand was on my arm, pulling me around to face him—“there is something I will have before you go.”

  The Rider was too close; those clear blue eyes depths to swim in. He would kiss me, I thought crazily; his lashes cast down as he looked at my mouth, then flicked back up to catch my gaze again. His hand slid up my arm, tugged the narrow strap of the undershift, and slipped it from my shoulder. The cloak and frock fell from my slackening grip. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine, his breath hitching ever so slightly, like a dusting of sandalwood against my skin. I had no breath of my own, no speech. I melted like wax in his hands.

  Laurent’s brows lifted at my willingness. I knew it too—somewhere—that it was absurd, I was absurd. Except I wasn’t thinking; I was reaching to meet his mouth. For a blistering moment his lips nearly touched mine, but then the Rider pulled back, gaze traveling down to my neck and along my arm to where his fingers held. He gripped my shoulder, not gently, and drew it toward him, putting his other hand to my back—

  I screamed as a lightning flash of yearning exploded inside, dropped to my knees under its weight. Laurent had stepped back, shaken. We stared dumbly at one another. But he recovered himself first and straightened, very sober and formal, and maybe angry.

  “Now, my lady, if you wish to travel alone, at least you are not exposed.” And he turned away and strode back to where his horse patiently waited.

  I PICKED MYSELF up, gathered my things, and stumbled after him, limbs all jelly and a strange keening in my ears. “What was that?” I gasped. “What was that? What did you do?”

  “A bond seeking,” Laurent said grimly. He reached his horse, made an adjustment to the saddle. “An informal one, but necessary.”

  “Necessary? Wait!” I lost my grip on my clothes and stumbled on, disoriented. The almost-kiss, the absurdity were lost in the hugeness of this feeling. Something sweet, something bitter, something beyond simple yearning—’twas a lifetime of emotion compressed into that single flash, and I was undone or fulfilled, hollowed out or completed by it, I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t sure I even knew my own name. I found the horse somehow, fumbled for the reins, and leaned into Arro’s flank to hold them there while I caught my breath. “You cannot go, Rider, without explaining.”

  Laurent stayed rigid still for a moment, gathering his own breath, then with a seeming flick of wrist touched me just by my left shoulder blade. I trembled. “There,” he said. “Your mark. I woke your calling. And that, my lady, was my choice. One I could not leave for you. Farewell.” He mounted and nudged his horse. My jaw hung slack; the reins simply fell from my hands. I had no muscles.

  “That…is not…enough,” I panted. The keening was turning shrill, hammering into my head. I put my hands on my thighs and leaned over to shake the sound away, confused, maybe enraged that he’d made me feel something first so strangely beautiful and then so awful. “What calling?” I yelled after him. “What bond? Why your choice?”

  “Those are questions that will only open more questions, my lady,” he called back, a
s if he knew of my effort not to ask any. “You would do well to leave now, before the dawn breaks.”

  “And you would do well to tell me what I ought to know,” I chattered. But he didn’t respond. Laurent trotted a few yards off and then paused, waiting—waiting for me to leave. The Rider was doing my bidding, letting me leave on my own. Yet he also stayed, as if to make sure—of what? That I was safe? So far, the Rider was the only thing that made me vulnerable; I was unnerved by his presence, by the bond seeking that now made me sick.

  I turned my back and staggered off in the opposite direction. Which way I’d decided to go I couldn’t remember. But I saw my garments tumbled on the ground and so wandered over to pick them up. I started to pull the frock over my head then stopped. My head was spinning from that incessant sound. Wet undershift, wet gown—I stood half in, half out—’twas all a cold, sodden mess. I dropped the frock at my feet, wanting to crumple beside it. But since I could still stand, then so could I walk—and I did, gathering the clothes and satchel and dragging them behind me. The shrill was near unbearable, stabbing; I pushed into the noise the same way one pushed into the headwind of a tempest.

  I made it halfway around the pond before the keening dropped me to my knees. Intention forgotten, Rider forgotten—just a desperation of helplessness that I didn’t know how to guard myself, how to fix this complete undoing. My hands were shaking, grinding into my ears to shut out the maddening sound.

  What had he done? Needles boring into my skull. I was on my knees, then on the ground, rolling onto my back, crushing my temples, railing at the sky while the shrieking only intensified.

  Shadows swooped in against the dawn light. If the wisps were back, I didn’t care. They could take me away, shred the skin from my bones—anything, anything to stop the sound. The ground was shuddering under my back, hooves pounding, shouting.

  “Stop!” I screamed, begging anything that could hear me. “Stop!” But then I was nearly bounced from the ground as the world exploded. A dark thing in the sky became a sudden ball of fire, a harsh burst of light and noise—the way that hideous bird exploded in the Insight spell. For a brief second the shrieking was drowned out and I could see Laurent, off his steed, guarding me, waving his shirt and sword like signals—but no, not signals. He was hitting the dark shapes before they reached us, and they were exploding one by one, with Laurent standing in the midst of confusion tall, focused, and unafraid….

  —

  “Evie.”

  Blessed silence. A soft brrr from a redwing, a whisper of breeze.

  “Evie, open your eyes.”

  I did, squinting. Laurent’s face was hovering just above. My eyes wandered. The sky was a dull gray but clear. There were no shadows, no clouds.

  My jaw was hard to work, stiff from being clenched so hard. “What happened?”

  “Swifts. Breeders’ birds,” he said a little grimly. “I told you they’d move quickly.”

  The Breeders again. “You burned those things.”

  “Swifts explode if they are touched by anything earthbound—fast destroyed but nonetheless a great threat. To Healers especially they cause madness.”

  “That sound…” I’d thought Laurent had done that when he touched me. It had all happened at once. But my head was clearer now that the horrid creatures were gone….What remained was the warmth from that bond seeking.

  “Wisps, swifts—Breeders have chosen things that will herd you, or pin you down.”

  “Pin me down?” I sat up quickly then, to prove I would not be pinned. Everything spun.

  The Rider caught my arm, letting go easily enough when I tensed. “So that you may be found, and collected.”

  “If they are after me”—I did not like his certainty—“you haven’t explained why.”

  He arched a brow. “I think it is you who’ve refused to ask.”

  A calm enough remark but it carved a strange heat along my throat. “I have eyes,” I retorted. “I can see that there is a darkness come over us. The drought, Troths, dead villagers and frightened survivors, and now…” I gestured at the sky as if wisps or those swifts would simply reappear. “What did Lark not tell me?”

  “My lady, you wanted to leave, remember? Do it now while your hair fades so well against the gray light of dawn. You will be less visible—to the eye at least.”

  He was baiting me. I worked my way to my feet, insisting, “What did she not tell me?”

  Laurent did not answer, but offered a hand again, which I ignored. I straightened, testing my balance. The jellyness of earlier had faded, except for where he’d touched my mark. That still tingled. So did the little burn in my throat, and the memory that I’d expected, nay wanted a kiss…and the absurdity. I put my hands on my hips to be fierce. “I should know what dangers are to be faced.”

  The Rider looked me up and down—my stance, my glare—and said softly: “What is it that you hold so tightly against? It isn’t fear.”

  “Hardly.” I snorted.

  His mouth curved ever so faintly. Anyone would blush under that look; I forced my gaze steady. He said, “You do not have to prove your bravery with me, my lady. I know it well. Good luck to you.” He turned and walked to his horse.

  A standoff. We’d reversed postures. The Rider knew I had no destination and far too much curiosity. And I was fairly certain he had no intention of letting me go on alone. It remained who would give in first. I moved off a little, but then turned around and came back. I could not pretend to be coy.

  “If I let you walk with me, you will answer all my questions.”

  This faintest victory shifted the Rider’s posture, but he only called over his shoulder, “The dawn breaks, my lady. We should find better cover before we talk.” He mounted his horse.

  I looked away from the marsh. To the west the sky was paling from smoke to pearl. There were few trees nearby. I wondered what would count for cover. I looked back to the Rider.

  He reached down his hand. I hesitated. “Walk, I said. I do not know how to ride.”

  “That,” he returned, “matters not.” Then Laurent gave me the first full smile. “Your cousin took to it rather quickly.” He pulled me up with one sweeping move and set me before him on the saddle. I swallowed, teetering, before his arms came around and took the reins. His bare chest was warm against my back.

  “I’ll not let you fall,” he said.

  —

  I’d misjudged. Hiding places dotted the route. Laurent chose our cover carefully, bypassing several copses.

  “Why oak?” I asked, when we finally halted.

  “Best protection from Breeders,” he said, dismounting. “We can stop here for a time, dry our things.” He put both hands around my waist and lifted me down, then set me back from him a little awkwardly since somehow I was still gripping his arms.

  I dropped my hands to my sides and he turned back to his horse. “So, have with your questions, my lady.”

  “Then I start with them. Who are these Breeders?”

  “Foes,” he said, unstrapping our wet things from the saddle.

  “Why?”

  He grinned. “Necessity.”

  “Since when is it necessary to have an enemy?”

  “When it is your calling.” Laurent handed me my satchel and went about the business of hanging clothes from the boughs of the trees to dry. “There are those whose duty it is to protect the Balance of Nature, and those who wish nothing more than to destroy it—enmity is inherent to the task.”

  That made me laugh. “Who could be Nature’s foe?”

  The Rider glanced over, a look that quelled any humor. “Keepers of Balance and Breeders of Chaos, the opposing powers,” he said. “You do not know?”

  I shook my head.

  “What thrives on this earth is a result of Balance—the balance of the primal forces of Life, Death, Dark, and Light. The Keepers’ duty is to protect this Balance while the Breeders will ever try to upset it.” Laurent finished with the clothes and walked back toward me. �
��A struggle through the ages. Keepers hold tightly against the Breeders; Breeders search for opportunity to unleash Chaos—”

  “The Riders,” I interrupted. “Are the Riders on the side of Balance?”

  It was his turn to snort. “You sound uncertain.”

  “Well,” I said, “you kill.”

  “Since when is killing not part of Nature?”

  “Since it is used to harm on purpose—in, as you say, a battle.”

  That stopped him. I saw that dark shadow flicker across his face. “I’m not a Healer,” he answered flatly. “Nor am I from Merith. Do not compare me to your innocent…upbringing.”

  Upbringing was not what he was going to say. Regardless, his tone stung. I said right back, “And I am not from your violent world, so do not assume I understand it.”

  Laurent pulled the saddle from Arro. “True,” he acknowledged, a little softer. “Sometimes there is no choice but to wield a weapon, especially if life as we know it is at risk.” He walked away to heave the saddle over a limb. “You should know that the Breeders have gained advantage,” he called back. “The battle is renewed with a vengeance. This drought is but a sample of the upheaval. ’Twill only get uglier.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “Does this battle have to do with finding a shell?”

  Laurent dropped his chores, came from under the boughs of oak straight to me. “You said you did not speak with your cousin.”

  “I didn’t. But you say the drought is part of this, and there is a bit of verse: find the shell’s song; bring rain upon—”

  He had my arms, tight. “Where did you hear that?”

  I tugged reflexively, astonished at his grip. “You do housekeeping whilst speaking of the Earth’s survival and now you are violent over some words?”

  “You know of things. How do you know?”

  The Rider was too close, his eyes so intensely blue. “I met an old man, a seer,” I said breathlessly. “He said that the darkness comes, that I need to find a shell.” And that I was hiding from something I could not yet see. I wished suddenly that the seer had been wrong about all of it.

  “This seer.” Laurent was terse. “Did he have a name?”