“Well, some people are afraid of it. Some aren’t willing to accept it.”
“And you?” she asked, looking into his violet eyes, without caring if she got lost in their depths or not.
“I accept people the way they are,” he said. “And I’m not afraid.”
Abagail saw the truth of his words in his eyes. It didn’t matter to him if Abagail had the plague or not, that wouldn’t stop him. She had to look away from his blind acceptance. It seemed he accepted her more than she accepted herself.
“Should I ask Leona if she wants to come?” Skye asked. “It’s up to you.”
There was something in his voice though, something that said he didn’t really want Leona to go, that he’d rather have the time to spend alone with Abagail. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want Leona to feel left out, but she also really wanted time alone with the elf.
“I’ve got plans tomorrow night,” Leona called from the top of the stairs.
Skye laughed. “Seems like we’ve had an uninvited third guest this entire time.”
“Very funny,” she said, coming down the stairs, acting as if nothing was wrong. “I was on my way down anyway.” She showed him the empty mug as if that was the only reason she had come back down.
“Yea, sure,” Skye said. He slid his hand further from Abagail’s and stood up. “Well, thank you for the tea. I will meet you here tomorrow night.” He gave Abagail a wink and ruffled Leona’s short hair. Leona swatted at him, but smiled.
“What do you have going on tomorrow night?” Abagail asked Leona once Skye had shut the door behind himself.
“My plans for tomorrow night are to not come between Abagail and the guy she lusts after.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie. I’m a seer, remember?” Leona said. She waved at her sister behind her back. “Early day tomorrow. G’night.”
Abagail closed the door to the classroom behind her. The darkness inside was nearly all consuming compared to outside and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the candlelight inside the yurt. Her stomach growled because she’d gotten up late and hadn’t had time to grab anything to eat before her training. She’d made a mad dash up to the second level just so she’d be on time. Rowan seemed like she was warming up to Abagail, but she still didn’t think that the harbinger would be happy if she was late to her first class.
When her eyesight adjusted to the darker room, she noticed Gil standing in the back of the room, dressed in a nondescript brown tunic and trousers. If at all possible, it made him seem plainer than he had before.
Abagail hadn’t really had time to plan what she was going to wear, but her lavender tunic and black trousers looked almost festive compared to his outfit.
“Where’s Rowan?” Abagail asked, stepping further into the room. Her shoulders eased their tension knowing that the harbinger couldn’t see that Abagail was nearly late to her first lesson.
“She will be a little late,” Gil said.
Great, here I was worried about being late, and she isn’t even here. But it would have been her luck to show up late and have Rowan here at the exact time she was supposed to be.
Gil gathered something from a table beside him and came closer to Abagail. When he was close enough that the meager light illuminated him, she could see he carried a strange bracelet of sorts. “You can take off your glove,” he told her. “This is a sparring glove. This ring attaches to your middle finger, and the bracelet clamps over your wrist. Make sure that this flat disk is against your palm.”
He handed the bracelet to Abagail and when he did she noticed a similar one on his left hand. She didn’t see any evidence of the shadow plague.
“Where is your plague?” Abagail asked, slipping the silver ring over her finger. She pressed the bronze disk to her palm and fastened the bracelet to her wrist. Somehow the contraption seemed the perfect size for her.
“Rowan told you that not all harbingers have been infected with the plague. I’m one of the lucky few.” He smiled at her.
“Not to be rude, but how are you going to be able to teach me to combat my emotions well enough to learn to work my wyrd if you’ve never been tempted by the plague?”
Gil walked behind her and ran his hand over the collar around her neck. It clicked open and fell to the floor with a heavy clang. “Just because I don’t have the plague doesn’t mean I haven’t had to learn to control my emotions when it comes to wyrdings.”
“Right, but the plague makes those emotions worse,” Abagail told him. “I don’t know how to really explain it, but the plague is almost like another entity in your mind, fueling your fears and your anger until the darkling wyrd is taking over.”
“I’ve heard that. It doesn’t mean that my hardship is just like yours, but it’s similar. There’s good and bad in every wyrd. Darkling wyrd is one half of all wyrd. While it’s not as strong in some as it is in those with the plague, the darkling wyrd is always trying to come out.”
“So there are harbingers of darkness who haven’t been tempted by the plague?” Abagail asked, turning her head to look over her shoulder at Gil.
“Yep, they’ve chosen of their own free will to be harbingers of darkness.”
“So you’ve had to learn to control it too?” Abagail asked, her head following his movement until he was right in front of her again.
Gil nodded and then gathered the collar from the floor and tossed it to the side of the yurt.
“How did you do it?” Abagail asked him. “Are you going to be teaching me to do that here?”
“In part,” Gil asked. “Later when you start learning to ignore the darkling wyrd more, we will up the stakes, maybe start giving you prompts that we know would upset you, and see how well you keep your emotions out of it.”
Abagail shifted uncomfortably remembering the verbal attack she had to endure from Rowan on their way to Haven.
“No need to worry,” Gil told her. “That isn’t for some time yet.”
“What are we learning today?” Abagail asked. The bracelet felt strange on her hand, almost like it was tingling, or her hand had fallen asleep and it was starting to wake up. A weird kind of electric prickling.
“Simple shielding,” Gil told her. “That doesn’t take too much emotion to master, and it’s essential to learn that before we start sparring too much. These sparring bracelets—” he held up his hand to show her the one he wore, “will dampen the wyrd enough that it won’t harm too badly, but we still need to be shielded to make sure none of the wyrd actually hits us.”
“So you will be fighting me as much as I am fighting you?” Abagail asked.
“Where’s the fun in just letting you attack me?” Gil asked with a smile.
Abagail chuckled. “Where do we start?”
“Right there,” Gil pointed to a cushion on the floor.
Abagail arranged herself on the cushion and waited for Gil to join her. Instead he went back to the wall he’d been standing in front of when she entered and messed around with a knob there. Suddenly the walls of the yurt were gone, and they were replaced by a verdant forest. There was no longer a floor beneath Abagail, but a soft blanket of grass dappled with sunlight as it broke through the canopy above her.
She gasped at the sight, but didn’t say anything because just then a chorus of birds started singing and darting through the trees above her.
“What did you do?” she asked Gil as he placed a candle on a rock before her and sat down opposite Abagail. The rock must have appeared at the same time the trees had. She knew it wasn’t there before.
“These classrooms are wyrded so we can make them look however we wish, however best will suit the session,” he told her. “I figured since you are learning shielding today, and the fundamentals of meditation, this would be a nice relaxing atmosphere.”
“But, are the trees real?” Abagail asked.
“No, but you could touch them and they would feel real. Just like this rock,” he motioned to the r
ock between them. Abagail reached out her hand and touched it. It was rough and cool beneath her fingertips.
“Dear All Father!”
“It isn’t here when the wyrd is dampened, but now you can’t tell the difference. Good illusions always trick more than the eyes.”
“Who did this?” Abagail wondered. “Do all harbingers have the ability to create illusions?”
Gil was already shaking his head. “No, it was Fen who did this. He is a powerful illusionist.”
Abagail didn’t know what to say. She’d seen Fen yesterday, and she’d seen him fighting the frost giants before. She would never have guessed that he was that powerful in other things than fire wyrd.
Over the next hour Gil taught Abagail how best to relax and breathe to get to a state of contemplation and reflection. He helped her to ease her mind. The hardest part was for Abagail to clear her mind and not allow herself to think about anything that came into her head. She was encouraged to notice what thoughts she was having, but to let them pass through. He insisted this would help her to understand that all thoughts are fleeting and that she has the choice to give them power by dwelling on them.
“Now, the next good thought that comes into your mind, I want you to focus on,” Gill told her.
It took a while for a thought good enough for Abagail to want to hold onto came into her mind. It was a time when she was younger and she’d first met Rorick. She’d been playing in the woods, she couldn’t remember what she’d been playing precisely, only that she was climbing a rather large tree when she lost her grip and fell to the ground. When she sat up he was standing there and she knew at that moment Rorick was someone that she wanted in her life. Although she was too young to think of him romantically, she felt an instant connection with the neighbor boy.
The memory brought a smile to her face.
“Alright, I think you have something,” Gil said. “Now I want you to feel the emotion brought on by that thought. I want you to feel the power in that emotion. Do you feel how it builds up in your stomach?”
Abagail nodded. The sound of birds and insects all around her in the yurt only added to the memory.
“Good. Now tap into that power. Feel it building up inside of you until you don’t think you can fit any more of the power inside of your body.”
It didn’t take long before Abagail’s heart was racing with the memory of Rorick helping her to stand, his calloused hand in her own, his firm grip pulling her to her feet. The pounding of her heart seemed to thrum through her entire body until she thought she was visibly shaking every time her heart thumped.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Realize that it can’t be contained within your body, and channel it down your arm and through your palm.”
Abagail felt the power cascading down her arm and to her palm. She felt her hand open like the lids of an eye peeling back.
“Imagine the wyrd leaving your body in an orb of light around you,” Gil told her.
She’d done this before she really knew what she was doing. When she was in the Fey Forest she’d protected herself several times from the darklings. She pushed the thought from her mind, just as Gil had taught her to do with unwanted thoughts, and instead allowed the memory of her first meeting with Rorick bloom in her mind again.
But as the power left her body, she no longer felt the memory inside of her. Instead Abagail felt it surrounding her in an orb. The memory was coming out of her body, and all around her she was surrounded with the joy and thrill of that first meeting with Rorick.
She opened her eyes, expecting to see the memory playing out in the air before her. Instead all she saw was a thin bubble of silver light surrounding her.
“Perfect,” Gil said and smiled. “It’s the most basic wyrding, but the most essential.”
“But it’s so thin,” she said. “The memory was a strong one. The bubble should be thicker.”
“All protective orbs are thin,” he told her. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how thick the bubble is, only how strong the emotion. I bet if I were to start attacking you right now that the bubble would hold firm, even if I didn’t have the sparring bracelet on.”
“Then try it,” Abagail said.
“Do you think you’re ready for defensive lessons?” Gil asked her.
She shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Gil looked around as if he expected someone to be watching them and he didn’t want to get caught. Then with a smile he pushed to his feet. “Alright, only a little. I think it’s too early for you to get into this, but you did really well with the orb. Something you have to remember while doing this,” he told her. A bubble of his own popped into place around him as if it took no thought at all on his end. “When you are being attacked, keep thinking about the thought you used to create the orb. That will strengthen the wyrd and keep it protecting you.”
“What if I can’t?” she wondered, standing to face him as well.
“Then the bubble will weaken, possibly even leave you open to attack,” Gil said. He didn’t give her time to process what he said. He held out his hand and fire bloomed across the disk over his palm. A gout of flame shuttled at her, and Abagail yelped, stepping back. But she remembered what he said, and imagined Rorick’s hand in her own, pulling her to her feet, steadying her from the vertigo of the fall out of the tree.
The flame burst across the orb and sizzled the air all around Abagail, but it didn’t touch her. She looked out, and everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by Gil’s wyrded fire, but she couldn’t feel a bit of the heat.
The memory started to weaken, and she closed her eyes, placing herself back in that distant place and time. She remembered how Rorick used to be before his family had been destroyed by the darklings. The memory of him strengthened the shield once more.
“Good,” Gil said, and the fire abated. “That was really good,” he told her. “That’s all we have time for today. It’s about lunch time and then you are scheduled for your shift in the barns before dinner. Are you hungry?”
She didn’t realize how hungry she really was until he asked her. All at once her hunger was back worse than it was before. She nodded.
“Working with your wyrd burns energy, it’s not a surprise that you’re hungry, let’s get some lunch.”
Leona and Rorick had both managed to make it to breakfast that morning. While they didn’t get up any earlier than Abagail, their schedule didn’t start as early.
Leona watched her sister race up the hill to the second level with a smile on her face. It was nice to be in a place where they were getting help. A place where she wasn’t filled with dread whenever Abagail left her side. Leona didn’t have to worry about Abagail now. She didn’t have to worry that her sister would succumb to the plague raging through her.
Leona loaded her plate down with fresh fruit, and then waited in line behind Rorick for eggs.
“Sorry folks, new guy today at the stove, the eggs are a little runny,” said the brunette woman shoveling out scrambled eggs on waiting plates.
Leona just smiled at her. She didn’t really mind, she liked her eggs slightly runny. She followed Rorick across the noisy cafeteria to another worn down table.
“Are you excited?” Rorick asked her.
“About the runny eggs? I love runny eggs,” she smiled around a mouthful of the eggs.
Rorick rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his black coffee. It was his third cup that morning. She began to wonder if he even had blood running through his veins anymore, or was it just coffee sludge now? He winced as the coffee burned his throat on the way down. “No, about your classes?”
“A little nervous,” Leona said, pushing around an orange slice with her fork.
“Why nervous?”
“Have you seen the raven twins? They’re creepy,” Leona told him. “I’d rather be learning how to spar with you.”
He nodded. “Soon. Don’t you have that on your schedule for today?”
�
�After the ravens. They are supposed to take me to the quartermaster.”
“Well, you better finish up. Do you want me to walk you?”
She did, but she shook her head no. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.
Her feet found their way up the hill the same way her sister had gone moments before. She remembered the yurt she had been shown the day before. The yurt that belonged to the raven twins. Leona swallowed her moment of panic and skirted the busy courtyard. No one was sparring yet, but she didn’t want to get in the middle of a conversation with strangers. She remembered what Abagail had told her before after they’d met with Daniken, how there were people in New Landanten and Haven who might have the same views as Daniken, and not to get messed up with them.
The door to the yurt was open, and the two raven-haired sisters stood at the top of the stairs, their hands folded before them, waiting for her. They wore matching black dresses that shifted whimsically in the wind. The black fabric and their hair framed skin so white they were nearly gray.
Their eyes stared at her, black and indifferent. Leona suppressed a shudder. She hoped that wasn’t a characteristic of the sight. She would never want to look like them. That cold look, like they were the hunters and she was their prey. That wasn’t something Leona ever wanted portrayed about her.
When the ravens saw her approach they turned away and vanished into the shadows of the yurt. Leona followed them, worried they might try to attack her and steal her soul once she was inside with them. She gripped the green hem of her tunic in her sweating hands. You’re a Bauer, no matter what Rowan says. A Bauer doesn’t give in to their fear.
However, when she entered, the room was much softer and cheerier than she would ever have imagined the raven twins making it. Large cushions of various colors sat all around the room. Wall hangings and drapes in oranges and bright reds adorned the walls. In the center of the room stood a small round table with three chairs around it. On the table rested a large crystal ball.
Oh dear, Leona thought. She’d never really thought of her foresight as being something to scoff at, but really, a crystal ball? I guess it’s not any sillier than my talking to a doll.
The Chosen of Anthros Page 7