by Jen Valena
Even though Tyrsten’s face had been set to brooding, she admired his broad, engaging grin. “A smile suits you.”
Tyrsten was momentarily disarmed by her comment, and Huldo tackled him to the ground.
When they were ready to move on, Huldo and Feron gathered the grazing horses.
Ithia and Tyrsten packed up the remaining food. Ithia had only eaten her apple. She handed Tyrsten her untouched loaf, sensing he was still hungry.
Refusing at first to take her share, he tore the bread in half and wrapped up the rest for later. “You intuited I was still hungry?”
“I guess I did.” She enjoyed how she was able to read him.
“Are you going to tell me now why you think I’m here?”
“There is a safer place to talk—later.”
Tyrsten rode out first to scout the forest ahead.
Huldo scrutinized his brother as he rode off and said to Ithia in his easygoing tone, “You changed him. He is lighter. I have not seen him smile this much in… well, I cannot remember when.”
Ithia pulled a disbelieving face. “He barely smiles at all.”
“For him, he is downright giddy.”
Ithia calculated her next move since Huldo liked to talk more than his brother. “Tyrsten believes I’m here for some reason. But hasn’t had a chance to say for what.”
“Something happened the night we found you. Your reason would be tied to that.” Huldo indicated with a twitch of his brow. “And something happened, not just to you, but to him.”
Feron nodded in agreement.
“That night my eyes became like his. Why did they change?”
Ithia knew that Tyrsten wouldn’t be happy with Huldo since he kept a tight lip about everything. Hopefully, Huldo’s openness would spill more than he should and enlighten her.
“They changed because of the Actuation. It is a rite of passage. Traditionally, when we are young, usually anywhere between fourteen and sixteen, we are taught by the Magian teachers. For an entire solar-turn, we are counseled by the Sauvants and learn about various callings and how each individual may have innate skills for a particular calling. Each of us is different. At our own personal timing, the Actuation ritual reveals our inner nature. Feron was fifteen solar-returns for the ceremony. I was sixteen returns. Tyrsten was an unusual case at only eleven returns.”
“Solar-returns?”
“The anniversary of one’s birth. Turns are how many times we go around the sun.” Huldo continued, “A Sauvant prepares a ceremony where the young adult goes through trials preparing the subconscious to assert its deepest desires and talents. It brings our abilities to the forefront. Most of our eyes shift to some degree during Actuation, becoming lighter or deeper. The Magians, however, are the most dramatic. Tyrsten, as we all had assumed, manifested into a Magian.”
“Each person has talents and sometimes exceptional abilities associated with a calling,” Feron said. “We discover them during this time.”
“Magians are rare on Ma’thea. They have the most innate talent to access energies. All of us will have skills of our own since we all have the elements within us. But usually one skill is dominant. We learn how to channel that energy for our life’s purpose.”
“What does a Magian do?”
“A Magian controls the element of Ether—Space and The Great Void—which is represented in their eyes.” Huldo explained, “They learn to master the other Universal Energies: Fire, Air, Water, Land. Most are gifted in a particular element—Tyrsten’s gift is of Land, such as communicating with the Trees. Magians were our societies’ spiritual advisors, teachers, scholars.”
“So Tyrsten is a Magian.” An understanding formulated in her mind. “My eyes are the same as his now. Does that make me one of these Magians too?”
Huldo shrugged. “Your eyes mark you as one. Any doubts Tyrsten has about you are because you were unprepared for Actuation. He is afraid that, perhaps, he transferred his subconscious desires onto you. Although, I do not know how that could have happened.”
“Why would he want me to be a Magian?”
“Tyrsten should answer that question.” Huldo paused but continued, ignoring his better judgment. “And we do not understand why the process happened automatically with you. He did not initiate the ritual. Also, neither of you were in no way spiritually or mentally ready at that moment. Or he does not believe that you were.”
“My eyes might be a mistake,” she mumbled and then rode in silence.
✹ ✹ ✹
Tyrsten had been gone a half hour when Ithia doubled over in pain. Her gut wrenched from deep within. A metallic taste flooded her mouth.
Huldo pulled his horse alongside hers and stabilized her with his hand to prevent her from falling. “Are you sick?”
She pulled herself upright and struggled to get words out. “It’s not me. It’s Tyrsten. Something’s wrong.”
Feron and Huldo stared at each other, unsettled.
“He covers his tracks magically,” Feron voiced his doubt, “And she should not be able to sense him.”
“Perhaps the Actuation somehow connects her to Tyrsten.” Huldo regarded Ithia with admiration. “If she can feel that he is in trouble, then she can find him.”
“Only the most skilled Magian would be able to do that. She just now learned what a Magian is!”
“If she is right, there is no other choice.” Huldo asked her, “Where has he gone? Use your Sight.”
Ithia closed her eyes and concentrated on Tyrsten. She brought up all of what she had felt for him in the last few days. There was an energy, a distinct pattern to him. It occurred to her now that she had been subconsciously quantifying all those she had ever met, cataloging them for future reference, and his energy was like no other. She didn’t know where these thoughts came from, but they sounded correct.
In her mind’s eye, a silver cord extended from her abdomen. It flowed out into the woods ahead. Tyrsten was attached to the other end. They were linked, by an invisible psychic rope.
Eyes closed, Ithia led them through the forest. The etheric cord reeled back into her gradually as she sensed she moved closer to his position. Her horse compensated for small obstacles. Her link to Tyrsten wended around the trees. She urged her horse to step faster. Time was of the essence.
Ten minutes into the hunt, a golden glow appeared in her mind. She recognized this as Tyrsten’s radiance. She opened her eyes, dismounted and charged toward the spot where he had toppled off of his horse.
Feron and Huldo followed close behind.
Tyrsten’s body was sprawled out in a shallow ravine. His arms were crossed over his stomach.
He lay stone still.
She fell to his side. Called his name. The idea of him dead made her want to retch.
He half opened his eyes. The skin around his eyes and mouth appeared a faint blue.
His body convulsed.
Tyrsten whispered between painful twinges, “Ithia…”
“Poisoned,” Ithia said. Whether it was intuition or Tyrsten’s thought entering hers, she knew it to be true.
Huldo’s mind raced through a list of what might save his brother. “The Bethesda mushroom should absorb the rest of the poison, if we find it in time.”
Huldo and Feron rode off chanting. A prayer perhaps? She feared that might be all Tyrsten had left now.
Ithia brushed his hair from his sweaty brow.
Already her heart grieved. It was as if a part of her soul was dying as though they had exchanged fragments of themselves that night they first looked into each other’s eyes.
Ithia maneuvered to cradle his head as a precious, delicate treasure in her lap.
Taking in his sleeping face, she noticed what a gorgeous face it was. She had been so preoccupied with her questions and trauma. Of course, his unusual eyes drew almost all of her focus. She had the sensation of falling into tranquil oblivion every time she gazed into them.
She rationalized everyone appeared angelic while they sle
pt. He would be no different.
But this was no ordinary sleep, this was the sleep of imminent death.
His eyes opened. “I need to—”
She stroked his temple. “Shh. You’ll be all right.” He has to be all right.
His breathing became more shallow. He gasped, as if he were bobbing for a bite of air.
And expiring—breath held loosely in his lungs—downward, he passed under the layer of death.
He was still.
Gasp—and held, down further he went. Again, longer now, not moving.
Tyrsten stopped breathing altogether.
As though another possessed her, Ithia’s right hand touched Tyrsten’s forehead, her left moved to cover his heart.
She began to do something she had never done before.
She prayed.
It sure as heck can’t hurt.
Ithia asked for the Head Honcho out there to help this man whom she had only known a few days, but now felt like forever. She figured she should cover all the bases. She called on God, Angels, Spirits, Sauvants, the Wizard of Oz, and anyone else she could think of for good measure. “Please show mercy and heal him.”
Tyrsten’s heart stopped beating.
An electric field washed over her. The top of her head felt like it opened up. Her scalp vibrated. A vortex of energy swirled down in through the top of her head, filling her up, until her whole body was brimming. The energy spilled out of her hands. Her palms radiated a pure liquid light.
His body soaked it up.
Huldo charged up on his horse, the Bethesda in his hand. He stopped in amazement—Ithia’s hands filled his brother’s body with light. He could even see she shimmered with an inner glow.
Ithia felt a sharp tug on the air around her.
Within a split-second, Tyrsten’s consciousness slid back into his flesh through the conduit of Ithia. She jumped at the sensation of his spirit rocketing through her, ricocheting like a pinball.
Tyrsten’s body jolted as his heart beat once again. He gasped for air.
The energy stream ended.
“Ithia,” Huldo said in awe, “you are a Healer!”
“It wasn’t me.” Her face flushed. “Will he—?”
Huldo pressed his fingers against Tyrsten’s neck. “His pulse is weak, but his breathing is regular. The poison is still in his stomach and entering his system. We need to absorb what is left.”
Huldo mashed the mushroom and added water to create a paste. They roused Tyrsten enough to swallow the antidote.
Feron rode up and exhaled in relief, “Will he recover?”
“Thanks to Ithia,” Huldo said. “I could actually see her glowing!”
Ithia glanced away.
“That is wonderful, but…” Feron then adopted an authoritative tone, “Unfortunately, now we must ask ourselves how this happened.”
She cleared her throat. “I think Dag poisoned the bread. Well, my bread.”
“Why?” Feron asked. “He is our ally.”
“I listen to how people say things. When he gave me the bread, he said he wanted me to find peace, and it felt like a prayer for the dead.” She allowed them silence to consider her accusation. “It doesn’t prove anything, but he warned me not to follow Tyrsten. And when I told him my choices were none of his business, I sensed he was angry.”
Feron paced in Tyrsten’s manner, rubbing his auburn whiskers. “Even so, Dag might not have poisoned anything.”
“I understand he is your friend.” Ithia turned back to Tyrsten’s unconscious body. “But Tyrsten was poisoned, and it would have had to be one of us or Dag.”
Huldo concluded with a dire glance at his brother, “We can no longer consider Dag our ally.”
Feron’s voice dropped low. “After all, he has done for us, I do not want to believe it.”
“There’s no point arguing right now.” Ithia ran the back of her hand down the side of Tyrsten’s face. “Is there any more you can do for Tyrsten?”
Huldo shook his head.
“We can rest,” Feron said as he took charge. “Set camp. No fire, in case soldiers are nearby.”
The men carried Tyrsten over to a spot nestled between two small knolls where the tree cover was thick.
Hours after the sun had gone down, Tyrsten was still unconscious. Ithia buzzed with electricity for quite a while after her episode, but the sensation had subsided. They were all somber. Huldo and Feron could only wait patiently as Ithia tended to Tyrsten, patting his fevered head with a wet, cool cloth.
Huldo squatted down next to them. “He could use more of your healing.”
Distress was written on her face. “I don’t even know how I did that.”
“Would there be any harm in trying?”
Now that his life wasn’t in imminent peril, she didn’t think she could make it happen. She simplified things and did not throw every name in the hat this time around.
The Wizard of Oz? What was I thinking?
Silently, she asked for help. Whatever, or whoever you are, thank you for what you have already done. But I ask you now, help me once more and heal him.
She visualized how her energy field had opened up at her crown to allow the healing force to fill her body. It wasn’t as intense as the first time, but the liquid light flowed through her into him. She visualized the toxins transforming into something benign. She continued for twenty minutes until his fever broke.
“We should all get some rest,” Huldo said, “Tyrsten should not be the only one napping.”
Ithia attempted a smile for her new friend. She took her place at Tyrsten’s side with Huldo next to her, opposite. Feron took guard of Tyrsten’s other side.
“Should we keep watch?” Ithia asked.
“I am a light sleeper,” Feron said. “It will be fine.”
Ithia couldn’t sleep. With her new vision, she saw that Tyrsten’s golden radiance was severely diminished. That worried her. Her hand, however, was brighter than it had been the previous nights. She wondered if this had to do with the energy that had gone through her.
Ithia appraised Tyrsten’s face while he slept. It was much easier for her to study his other features when his attention-grabbing eyes were closed. His regal brow swept down into a Grecian nose. His lips had just enough bite. She was tempted to touch the black whiskers on his unshaved chin, but restrained herself. She stared for hours detailing a contour map of his face.
She was unaware that Tyrsten had done the same in studying her at Samara’s. He had attempted to count each eyelash, to memorize every detail of her face.
Ithia placed her tentative hand over his heart, hoping some residual energy might drain from her palm into his chest. She closed her eyes.
As she started to drift asleep, a weak voice cracked against the quiet. “Why are you not keeping watch like I taught you?”
Impulsively, Ithia kissed his cheek—then blushed with her forwardness.
“You saved me.”
“It wasn’t me, not really.” Ithia shook her head.
“It was. From the other side, I saw you have a healer’s touch. You must have a good amount of water energy. I pegged you for more of a fiery nature.” He let out a fragile chuckle.
“Funny,” she said levelly, yet she was glad he had strength to tease her. “You can’t die on me like that.” Her eyes flashed bright.
“Sorry to put you out.”
The tension of him surviving now over, tears welled up in her eyes. “Anyone who ever meant anything to me has left.” Hating to cry in front of anyone, she resisted.
“I mean something to you?” he asked, taken aback.
Her defenses reared up. She tightened her body and her voice. “Well, you did say you were going to get me home. If you’re gonna die on me every chance you get, I’ll find a way back myself.”
“You exaggerate. I only died once.”
Her hand was still pressed against his chest, and he set his hand over hers.
She pulled away, feeling inappropr
iate.
He caught her hand. “I owe you my life.”
“I caused this.” She stared at the ground between them.
“What?”
“I believe the poison was meant for me. I should’ve known Dag was up to something. It’s my fault.”
“No. You did not poison me.”
“I had a bad feeling. I ignored it.”
“I should have been more alert.”
She argued, “But if I wasn’t here in the first place then—”
He interrupted, “If you were not here, I would have no hope.”
“Who’s exaggerating now?” she whispered. “Why would I give you hope?”
“You think everyone could do what you did?”
“Yeah, maybe. Because it wasn’t me anyway.”
“Well, maybe we all have the power to call upon such forces. But how many of us do? How many have the natural talent with no training?”
“I’m sure we all limit ourselves.”
“This is why you give me hope. Your spirit is rebellious—ready to challenge.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are delirious from the poison.”
Ithia pulled her hand from his.
“Just kiss and get it over with.” Huldo’s voice cut through, followed by laughter.
Tyrsten and Ithia scooted away from each other. The moonlight masked their flushed cheeks.
“Glad to see you are of the un-dead, dear brother.”
Tyrsten offered a feeble grin. “I believe I have you to thank for the pungent aftertaste of Bethesda in my mouth.”
“I am not renowned for my culinary skills.”
“We can celebrate in the morning,” Feron said in a groggy voice.
With Feron’s words of wisdom, they all relaxed into sleep.
✹ ✹ ✹
“Where exactly are you taking me?” Ithia asked Tyrsten as they packed up camp.
“Our safe haven—allowing us time to plan our next move and keep us sheltered.”
“I hope it is better than our last safe haven,” she muttered.