Journey To The Rift (Coimirceoirí: Guardians of the Marked Ones)

by Cathi Shaw

  “They should tell them where they are going,” Raspella’s voice was shrill.

  “The Elders will not divulge that kind of information to students. They haven’t even told me exactly what their plans are.” Brijit recognized the rough voice of the male Coimirceoirí schoolmaster, Gregor.

  “Then how do you know…”

  “I have ways of intercepting messages, Raspella.” Brijit had cringed at the man’s superior tone. She waited for Raspella to react, but she stayed surprisingly quiet as Gregor went on. “It is the only way we can stay at all informed of what is happening now. The Elders are becoming more and more secretive.” He paused. “But I fear they are sending them to The Rift.”

  “They are sending them to The Rift,” Raspella replied with a sneer in her voice.

  “How do you know –”

  She cut the older man off. “We also have our ways, Gregor. But no mind, what I want to know is why they are sending them to The Rift.”

  Gregor’s voice was dark as he replied. “I do not know. But I do know their interest in Weylon and his skill set was intense.”

  “And Brijit? Why are they so interested in her?”

  “You know very well how important she is to them. Her skill set – the empathic ability combined with healing is needed for some reason.” He paused. “And she has more skills than just those.”

  Brijit froze. Did everyone know about her supposed Kurunii blood? She held her breath and listened hard, not wanting to miss her mentor’s reply.

  Raspella answered. “That is not to be spoken of, Gregor. She doesn’t know about it herself. We removed her from her grandmother’s home before she was of age to begin her practice.”

  The old man growled. “I told your headmistress over and over that her special skills needed to be developed rather than ignored as the Elders wanted. We are sending her out unprepared. She cannot fight what she already is.”

  “You know the Elders were adamant that we keep those skills hidden. I never understood why. But you know what happens when one of our kind disobeys the council.” Raspella paused and then whispered vehemently, “They want one they know will be loyal.”

  Gregor grunted in reply.

  They were silent for a moment. Brijit held her breath and waited.

  “If the queen carries a girl-child,” he said slowly, “she will need a healer who is true and not invested in Elder politics.”

  “But The Rift?”

  Gregor shook his head. “I don’t know all their motives, Raspella, but I do know this: untranslated fragments of the Prophecy are being pieced together by the Elder archivists. What they discover could change the entire way of life in Séreméla. And you know there will be those who are opposed to that!”

  The silence hung heavy in the air again. This time Brijit backed away before she was discovered, her mind racing. She didn’t understand half of what she’d overheard, but one thing was clear. The Elders wanted her for more than just her healing abilities. But what that could be, she couldn’t fathom.

  #

  Even with her detour to Raspella’s chambers, Brijit was still the first one to arrive at the stables. In spite of her unease regarding what she’d overheard, an unexpected jolt of excitement filled her as she tied her small bags of belongings securely behind her saddle. Regardless of the destination, her time at the Academy had ended.

  Her male counterpart, Weylon Forborrow, arrived at the stable before the Elders. If he was surprised to see her there already he gave no indication. Brijit studied him through half-open eyes. He wasn’t as tall as she’d thought he was when she’d seen him across the convocation hall; he just carried himself with an air of authority. He was even more attractive close up, but his face was set and closed off. His eyes didn’t meet hers, and his only response to her greeting was a noncommittal grunt. Brijit found it hard not to take his silence as rudeness.

  She shook her head, turned back to her mount, and stroked the horse’s neck. The horse was a beautiful chestnut with dark stockings on his legs and huge brown eyes. Brijit felt her heart melt just a little as he nuzzled her hand and whickered softly. She gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. At least someone on this trip was happy to see her.

  “He’s a horse, not a pet.”

  Brijit turned to find Weylon watching her with a sour look on his face.

  “He’s lovely, and I’m happy to have a mount that’s so affectionate. Animals sense how we feel about them, you know.”

  He looked skeptical but before he could say anything more the Elders arrived. And without further delay they started on their journey.

  The sun was just starting to peak over the distant mountains as they headed west. The sky behind them was golden and etched with pink and red. As the sun rose, the road ahead of them lit up in the dawn’s soft light. Brijit smiled despite the dark thoughts that had engulfed her over the last few hours. She breathed in the spring air, and a sense of calm flowed over her.

  She knew that Séreméla was a two-day journey from the Academy. That’s what she had originally based her planning on. For a while now, she had assumed she would be going to Séreméla or, if not there, then one of the other Elder strongholds in Five Corners. All of them were within a day or two of riding. But the revelations from the previous twenty-four hours had changed everything. She tried to gauge what direction they were heading from the slant of the sun as the morning went on. They appeared to be heading directly to the west. She thought back to all she knew about that part of the country. Geography of Five Corners was a required course in second year. But she couldn’t remember there being anything about what lay to the west. At the time she hadn’t questioned it. As a student with more than enough towns and cities to remember on her final exam, it didn’t occur to her to worry about what might be missing. If anything, she had been grateful for less facts to memorize. Now as she reflected on the omission, it seemed odd.

  That map she’d found in Raspella’s office suggested that a lot lay in the West. Brijit wished she’d had more time to look over that map, but she hadn’t wanted to burden Elsa and Serena with it, and she’d had no time since she left her friends to look at it more closely. Now she was with the Elders and Weylon, she didn’t dare take it out. It seemed she would just have to bide her time. One way or another, it appeared she would soon find out what really did lie in the West.

  Brijit was thankful that she’d ignored the tradition that dictated she wear the Academy apprentice gown on her journey. Instead, she had carefully stowed the ceremonial dress in one of her saddlebags, and instead she had dressed appropriately for a cross-country trip. She wore a long pale green tunic with leather leggings tucked into knee-high boots for comfort while riding. She also wore a warm cloak around her shoulders. She felt confident that she was prepared for this trip. Or at least as prepared as she could be.

  But she could have done with friendlier traveling companions. She hadn’t expected the Elder warriors to converse with her. Their demeanor at the ceremony had made it clear that they saw the delivery of Weylon and her as a chore. But she had hoped that Weylon would talk to her once they started on their journey so she could get a feel for him. Instead, he steadfastly ignored her, refusing to meet her eye. She knew that she desperately needed an ally, but it didn’t look like Weylon Forborrow would fill that role.

  As the day wore on, the Elders said very little. Occasionally they would exchange a word or two in the Elder language. Brijit was fluent in their language, but they spoke quickly and in a dialect she didn’t recognize. Weylon continued to be silent and stony-faced. Brijit quickly decided that he wasn’t worth wasting her time on, and she gave up attempting to talk to him. If he wanted solitude, then he could have solitude. The forest was alive with birds and small animals, and despite her ongoing worries, she felt soothed by her surroundings. She found herself actually beginning to enjoy the journey.

  They stopped to make camp only when the sun dipped behind the trees and the path became too dark to see safely. The Eld
ers led them to a small clearing in the woods and then swiftly bade them goodnight. Unfazed, Brijit watched as they disappeared into the trees, without a leaving trace. Their horses vanished with them. In truth, she was relieved that they wouldn’t be with them all night. Although she suspected they might still be watching them from the darkness of the forest.

  She turned to look at her fellow Coimirceoirí, but he had dismounted and was unsaddling his horse, pointedly ignoring her.

  “They won’t be making camp with us,” he said gruffly, without turning around. Irritation bubbled along Brijit’s skin. Did he think she was an uneducated simpleton who wasn’t aware of the Elder customs?

  Biting back her waspish retort, Brijit slid from her horse’s back and gave his neck a firm pat. “I doubt they’ve gone far,” she commented as she began to remove the saddle. Her horse turned to her and nickered softly. She gave him another kiss on the forehead. “You are sweet,” she told him softly. Unlike others, she added silently.

  Weylon looked over his shoulder in her direction, his eyebrows raised. “Elders don’t rest the same way humans do.”

  Brijit nodded and kept her expression clear, but she was shocked by his word choice. She knew that Elders were different from other citizens of Five Corners, but she was taken aback by what Weylon said. It was almost as if he were suggesting the Elders were not even human. She had never thought of them that way. Elders were surely just a different race of humans living in Five Corners. Weylon’s words hinted that they were something else entirely.

  Weylon tethered his horse and then looked at her dismissively. “I will gather some wood for a fire. You have food for yourself, I hope.”

  Anger curled in the pit of her stomach, but Brijit just nodded silently. She was perfectly capable of collecting wood for a fire, but Weylon seemed to think that he was the one who should be doing it. Irritation licked along her nerves as she felt the sexist attitude that the Elders encouraged played out in real life. This was precisely what happened when the boys were educated in a supposedly more rugged environment – they thought they were tougher than the girls. It was ridiculous. She turned back to her horse and began to rub him down for the night. At least she had one friend on this trip.

  Half an hour later, she and Weylon sat on opposite sides of the fire. Brijit studied the young man sitting across from her once again, still trying to find some kind of redeeming quality in him. Despite his good looks, his personality appeared to be wholly unappealing. Brijit hoped Serena and Elsa fared better with their Coimirceoirí partners, especially Elsa who was going to be so isolated in the North.

  Coimirceoirí partners were meant to work as a team. There were many stories about Coimirceoirí who had achieved great things by bonding together in their work as guardians of the Elders but there were also countless stories of Coimirceoirí failures. Although the inability to bond was rare, when it did happen the consequences were often catastrophic. Brijit hoped Weylon got over his annoyance at having a partner. The sooner he accepted it, the better their lives would be. Brijit wasn’t exactly sold on the whole bonding thing herself, but she knew it was inevitable. Eventually they would have to take part in the Coimirceoirí bonding ceremony. Not for some time, true, but when it happened she hoped they would be friends rather than enemies.

  Weylon was staring moodily into the fire, ignoring her as much as possible. Brijit refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn’t have time for moodiness. She was more interested in figuring out where the Elders were taking them and what The Rift was. If Weylon couldn’t help her then she would just have to unravel the truth herself.

  She’d had a lot of time to think during the ride that day, and while she turned what she’d overheard outside Raspella’s room over and over in her head, she still couldn’t make sense of it. It was somehow linked to what had been mentioned in the letter she had found in her mentor’s desk. But what was this Prophecy Raspella and Gregor had been discussing? It had been mentioned in the letter she’d found as well.

  She wondered if Weylon knew any more than she did. He didn’t seem surprised when the Elders led them in a direction opposite from Séreméla. Resentment filled her. She didn’t put it past the Elders or the Academy to share more information with the male apprentice.

  That was another thing: the Elders. For a race that so valued a female leader, they sure had double standards based on gender when it came to the Coimirceoirí. The Elders believed that their ruling bloodline would be passed down through the female members of the royal family. Male children were not allowed to rule. Instead they were deemed Crown Princes and the Elder Council guided them in all decisions. Although it had been centuries since their last female ruler, Queen Aibhilín who had sacrificed her own life to safe her people, the Elders still held firmly to the belief that a female ruler would save their people and Five Corners.

  It was interesting how the female monarch was treated almost as a god by the Elders, and yet female Coimirceoirí were certainly treated as inferior to males. Brijit didn’t know enough about the Elder society itself to pass judgment on how they treated their own women. She wondered if women and men were given equal opportunities. The Elder warriors who were leading them on this journey were all male.

  Brijit paused as she turned to her saddlebags and began to unpack her sleeping roll. She looked back to where Weylon was sitting and wondered how much he knew about the Elders. What could be the root cause of his coldness? She considered trying to probe his mind to get a feel for what his feelings were underneath that steely exterior but then decided against it. If he were truly as gifted as he was rumored to be then he would sense her invasion immediately and something told her she didn’t want that.

  His features were still overshadowed by the scowl that seemed to have permanent residence on his face. Brijit decided it wasn’t worth attempting yet another conversation. She had tried to be friendly more times than he deserved that day.

  He seemed perfectly content to sit in awkward silence. Brijit took a small round of cheese, a dark loaf of spelt bread, and some dried nuts, seeds, and fruit from her bag.

  She looked over at where he was sitting, steadfastly ignoring her. She noticed that he hadn’t removed any food from his own supply bags.

  “Would you like some?” she asked reluctantly, her grandmother’s training in good manners too deeply entrenched in her mind for her to ignore him.

  He looked over at the food she had spread carefully on her sleeping roll.

  “Is that all you have?” he asked, eying her supplies warily.

  Brijit’s anger threatened to erupt. Did he think she was daft? The food on her blanket was hardly enough to get her to Séreméla and only then if she ate like a bird, which wasn’t what she was apt to do. Why did he think she was such a simpleton?

  And then a crafty thought occurred to her. What if she pretended to be as stupid as he clearly thought she was? Perhaps she could trick him into revealing what he knew about where they were going. She looked at the supplies again and hid a smile. Perhaps if she played the role he expected from her, she would get more information from him. Remembering how Serena used to widen those amazing eyes of her and blink them at any man she was flirting with, Brijit looked blankly at Weylon, forcing a look of confusion to her face.

  “If it is, you’ll need to conserve it,” he said in the same gruff tone he’d used earlier.

  Brijit looked down at the food, forcing herself to act innocent and naive.

  “I’m sure I have enough. After all, we’ll be in Séreméla by tomorrow evening, don’t you think?” she asked sweetly, hoping her expression was as open and trusting as possible.

  For the first time his eyes met her own. She just barely refrained from reacting to the contempt she saw there.

  “We are not going to Séreméla,” he said slowly, carefully enunciating each word, as if he were speaking to someone who was lacking in both intellect and common sense.

  Brijit started. Did he know where they were going? She stared at hi
m in feigned shock, her mind going a mile a minute. She wondered what he knew that she did not? She focused on keeping her features clear and shielded herself in case her act wasn’t convincing enough and he decided to probe her thoughts.

  He studied her for a moment longer and then muttered an oath under his breath. When he said nothing further, she spoke.

  “What do you mean we aren’t going to Séreméla?” She wanted to cringe when she heard the silly tone of her voice. Instead she focused on looking confused and went on, “Of course, that’s where they are taking us. That’s where they always take Coimirceoirí apprentices.”

  Weylon looked hard at her. “Seriously?”

  Brijit wanted to flinch at the insulting tone he had adopted. Instead she widened her eyes even further and stared at him as if dumbfounded.

  “Séreméla is that way.” Weylon pointed over his shoulder, north from where they were. “We have been traveling west since we left your Academy.”

  Southwesterly if he were to be specific. She had noticed the slight shift in direction immediately after their midday meal. But Brijit kept her mouth shut and her features clear of any of the knowledge she possessed.

  “I’m sure there’s some explanation,” she said softly after a few minutes, making her tone just shy of desperate.

  “Most likely. However, I don’t think the Elders will be sharing their explanation with us.”

  Brijit looked back at her supplies spread on the blanket, pretending to be considering how long the food would last.

  She broke off a small piece of bread and took a tiny nibble of her cheese before putting them back in her bag. Then she allocated herself a handful of the nut mixture. She hoped her growling stomach would be worth the sacrifice to get some information from him. She wasn’t used to eating so little.