by H. L. Burke
Gabrin whistled. “The girl’s got teeth. So tell me about some of these great men you’ve known.”
She avoided looking at him, knowing that if his face had the smirk his mocking tone suggested, it would be too hard to resist punching him.
Dad sacrificed everything to end the Elemental invasion and still fought his way back to us. Of course, he’s forbidden me from talking about it. Half truth, maybe? Otherwise Gabrin will think I’m lying. I can’t give him that pleasure.
“I met the hero, Karvir,” she said.
Gabrin drew back. “Really? You aren’t just saying that to impress me?”
“I don’t want to impress you. I kind of want you to go away.”
“So then you know what his wife’s name was? Right? Since you were such good friends with the hero?” His voice hummed with barely suppressed laughter.
“Willa,” she snapped.
Gabrin blinked. “Don’t go anywhere, all right?” He strode off.
Trea hesitated, looking first after him then towards the Common House. On one hand, she was loathe to obey him. On the other, she couldn’t help but be curious as to why he wanted her to stay.
Before she could consider the matter, he returned with Eanan at his side. The older man’s face was bright red, and Gabrin had one hand on his upper arm, as if holding him back from running.
They stopped in front of her.
Eanan stared at her for a moment. Then his eyebrows melted together. “You say you knew Karvir? And Willa? How old are you?”
“I’ll be sixteen soon.” She shifted uneasily. She hadn’t really expected Gabrin to believe her, or at least not to care. Now she was in danger of doing exactly what she’d promised not to do, tell strangers details about her family. I wish I were a better liar. Well, when in doubt, just shut your mouth. She stared down Eanan, hoping Dad would show up to intervene.
“You couldn’t have been very old when you knew him, then.” Gabrin reached into his pocket and withdrew something in a shiny, metal case. He stroked it with his fingers. “This is probably a mistake, Eanan. I’m sorry I got you worked up—”
“Let’s not dismiss her yet.” Eanan held up his hand. “When was the last time you saw Willa? How do you know her?”
“Why do you want to know?” She crossed her arms.
Eanan’s mouth opened and closed. His throat rippled. “Oh … I thought I saw it last night, when you stepped between me and that Charred, that look in your eyes, the same expression she used to get … You’re her daughter, aren’t you?”
Trea’s heart thumped. How did he know that? She stepped backwards, forgetting that she was at the wharf’s edge. She cried out as she rocked. Gabrin and Eanan both shot a hand forward and pulled her back to safety.
Her stomach churned. Eanan smiled at her, offering her a hand. Trea pushed him away and bolted for the Common House.
Crashing through the door, she skidded to a stop in front of Dad and Revin.
“Back already?” Dad laughed. She gulped more air. His posture straightened. “Trey, what’s wrong?”
Eanan pushed his way into the Common House, and she dove behind her father.
Eanan’s mouth curled in disgust. “You again? I need to speak with the girl.”
“You can speak with me. What do you want?” Her father flickered between his gaseous and solid states.
This is all my fault. Why did I have to go bragging to Gabrin?
“She …” Eanan’s voice cracked. “She knows where to find my daughter.”
The words slapped Trea across the face, and she recoiled. “What does he mean?” she whispered.
Dad reached back and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s all right. I can handle this.”
“I just want to talk to her.” Eanan stepped closer.
Dad put his hand out. “Not here. Someplace more private.”
With one hand leading Trea, he strode out the door.
Gabrin waited outside. He raised an eyebrow. “Everything all right?”
“This is between me and Eanan,” Dad said.
“I’d say it’s between me and my granddaughter.” Eanan scowled.
“And you’d be wrong, not for the first time in our association.”
A shiver cut through Trea. She’d never heard Dad’s voice so icy.
Eanan’s eyes narrowed. “We know each other, then?”
“Let’s just say I know you.” Dad motioned towards the end of the wharf. Gabrin hurried to Eanan’s side. They traveled off the boards of the wharf and up the path into the woods. “This is better. Your daughter is safe, healthy, and happy. That’s really all you need to know for now. Why are you here? It’s been nearly two decades. Why now?”
Eanan stared at him for a moment, then his expression hardened. “You’ve got a lot of questions for a dead man.”
“Dead or not, I need to be convinced that letting you near my family isn’t a mistake. Last time I saw you, you tried to drive a wedge between me and the woman I loved and spat in the face of everything I fought for—”
“And how’d that work out for you?” Eanan scoffed. “Look at you, a burnt-up remnant of a man.”
“There were costs. I paid them, but I kept my family safe. I didn’t see you throwing yourself on the fire for my girls.” The heat coming off Dad’s body caused the air about him to ripple, and Trea had to step back.
“Your girls?” Eanan’s nostrils flared.
“You lost any claim to them when you sailed off to Creator knows where.”
“You mean when you stole Willa from me.” Eanan stepped forward.
Gabrin’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Easy.” The younger man inserted himself between Eanan and Dad. “I’m gathering from this whole conversation that you are this Karvir everyone seems to think is dead?”
Dad said nothing.
“I’m interested in getting this over with as quickly as possible. When Trea let on she knew Eanan’s daughter, it wouldn’t have been right for me to keep that from him, but at the same time, we have business elsewhere in Forra, and we agreed, no distractions.” Gabrin turned his gaze back to Eanan. “However, if Eanan’s daughter is nearby, allowing us to see her before we continue on our way doesn’t seem like too great an imposition now, does it?”
Dad’s eyes flickered.
Eanan unclenched his fists, his shoulders slumping. “I just want to see her. Please, she’s my child.”
Dad’s fingers found Trea’s hand. She squeezed back. “Dad, is he really my grandfather?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, and he’s right. I can’t keep him from Willa. Not for your sake, Eanan, but for hers. She’d want a chance to make things right with you, and I’m not going to deny her that out of pride. However, I have given more than you could possibly understand to keep my family safe. If I let you near them, you need to play by my rules. You must tell no one where we are or that I’m alive. If you do anything to endanger them—”
“Why would I endanger my own flesh and blood?” Eanan tilted his head, looking around Karvir at Trea. “So, how many siblings do you have, Trea?”
She glanced at Dad. He gave her a nod. “Just one. My sister, Quill. She’s eighteen.”
“Are either of you empathic?”
“Quill is.”
Dad's face, as always, was impossible to read. She would’ve given anything for Quill’s ability to know what he was feeling right now. The anger in his voice when he spoke to Eanan had frightened her. She still wasn’t sure she could trust the older man, grandfather or not.
“We have a few more trades to complete, then we’re headed back home. It’s about a two-day walk. Think you can manage?” Karvir asked.
“In what direction?” Gabrin asked.
“West.”
“Convenient. We’re heading roughly that way.” Gabrin smiled.
“You’d sort of have to be. Water to the east and mostly impassable mountains to the north and south. Our path will take you right into the Mountain’s Feet, and you’ll have all
of Forra spread out in front of you.”
The heat from Dad’s body died down, allowing Trea to slip back against his side.
He cleared his throat. “I need to finish my business with Revin. We’ll leave before midday, however, so be ready.” He strode towards Northport.
“Perhaps we could take the time to get to know each other.” Eanan offered Trea his hand.
She shied away. “I’m sorry, but I need to help Dad.” She scurried after her father.
Karvir glanced at her when she caught up to him. “It’s all right if you want to stay. He won’t hurt you. Whatever else he may be, he’s your grandfather.”
“But you don’t like him, and I want to know why.”
Karvir sighed, the sound reminiscent of wood crackling in a fire. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, he wanted your mother to choose him, and instead, she chose me.”
Trea mulled over this. She couldn’t imagine choosing between two people she loved. “I’m glad she chose you.”
“Well, if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been born.” He laughed his husky laugh and brushed her cheek with his hand. She wiped away the smudge of soot she knew he’d left behind.
***
Arana warmed her hands above the crackling campfire, ignoring the grunts of the men struggling in the dirt behind her. She’d have to talk to Vyvan about his methods. Any of her other sons, and the merchant would’ve been dead by now.
The merchant screamed. The flailing and gasping ceased, and silence fell over the camp. A nightbird hooted in the distance.
“It is done, then?” She raised her eyebrows.
Vyvan drew a deep breath and dragged the merchant’s body to lie beside his two companions, both of whom had been dispatched quietly in their sleep.
“Yes.” He walked out of the ring of firelight to where the travelers’ donkey cart sat. “We can’t take all of this. Should we burn it?”
She shook her head. “No point in more destruction.” Striding over to the bodies, she bent down and cleaned her knife on one of the men’s shirts. “You grow clumsy. Anyas and Markyl never allow their victims to awaken. It would serve you right if he knifed you.”
“You didn’t offer any help.”
“No, for as I said, you would’ve deserved it.” She straightened her back. A sharp pain ran up her spine. Age, she supposed. If her boys were better trained, she would stay in the sanctuary and allow them to do the hard work, but today’s mission was enough proof of their unreadiness. Anyas and Markyl might have been surer and swifter in the killing, but they tended to be distracted by other vices, Anyas by greed and Markyl by impatience. For now, they needed her supervision if they were to keep the sanctuary safe.
Vyvan pawed through the cart’s contents. “Cloth, spices, and foodstuffs mostly.”
Arana’s ears twitched. “What sort of spices?”
Vyvan opened a leather sack and stuck his nose into it. “Yarris, I think.”
Arana’s fists clenched. These men were light-skinned, like those of the northern coast, not dark-skinned like those of the southlands where Yarris grew. That meant they were most likely on their way back from the south. A quick examination of their cart’s tracks proved her suspicions.
“They must’ve passed this way weeks ago. How did I miss them?” She kicked the nearest corpse, her bindmetal-toed boots cutting into flesh.
Vyvan returned to her side, a heavy satchel of stolen goods draped over his shoulder. “You can’t expect us to know every beggar who passes through the Burnt Wastes.” He chuckled.
She backhanded him.
He staggered back, his hands over his oozing nose. “Crush you, Mama!”
She turned on him, teeth bared. “You forget yourself, Vyvan! We are the keepers of the Sanctuary. All who pass through these holy lands must pay the price. Touching the shadow of the Earthen Lord's mountain is too great an honor for these heathens.” She closed her eyes. Though Vyvan’s complacency was insufferable, the fault was her own. The Earthen Lord had given her the charge of His mountain. He had sheltered her family in the days of the burning in return for their service. She would offer a penance for her failure.
Drawing back her sleeve, she jerked her chin in the direction of the cart. “We will take the cart, need or no need. If we leave it here, it may draw looters.” Her skin glowed almost orange in the moonlight, for she had Valley Folk blood, equal parts North and South. White stripes crossed her forearm, crisscrossing each other like the marks of a scratching hen.
She waited until Vyvan was well away, dealing with the cart, to make her cut. Red blood dripped down her fingers to pool in her palm. It fell onto the precious earth, even now stained black with the Fire Demons’ blasphemy.
The burning had been a blessing in a way. Over the centuries, her family had never forsaken their charge to protect the Sanctuary, known to irreverent outsiders as Wrath Mountain. Many had to fall in order to give the lands around the Sanctuary a reputation of being cursed or haunted, and even then curious folk often strayed into the forest, causing more work for her family.
Then the Fire Folk attacked …
The forest around Wrath Mountain had burned, as had every field and town for a hundred miles in all directions. For the last several decades, human folk labeled the Valley of Forra the ʻBurnt Wastes,ʼ too dangerous and desolate to traverse. Blessed peace, blessed solitude. Now, however, people were growing brave again. They’d resettled the edges of the Waste, and caravans of merchants occasionally passed through the Mountain’s Shadow, to trade with the settlements of the South.
Blood mixed with the dirt. She stirred it with a long, black-nailed finger.
“Those who have violated your Sanctuary have fallen, my Lord,” she whispered.
The earth trembled like a great beast flexing its muscles beneath her touch.
“Arana, my faithful soldier.” The voice in her head rumbled like great boulders rubbing together. Her breath rose with exhilaration. “You have fought hard tonight in my name. Take my strength and gird yourself.”
Her muscles tightened, and a feeling of wellness spread through her. The cuts on her arm reformed into a thin white seam, no longer stinging.
“These peddlers grow bolder, coming into your holy lands, my Lord.” She clasped her hands together and dropped to her knees. “I fear we lack the numbers to drive them away.”
“There are more pressing concerns. The bonds upon the other Realms are weakening. Fire has fallen beyond repair, but now Water threatens to seep into the Convergence as well. You have lived through the destruction that the Fire Folk caused. We will not allow the Water Folk to do as much harm. When the Realms intermingle, only violence and destruction can follow. Gather your strongest and your best and head for the Western lands. There the ruins of the Water Sanctuary still stand. And there you will ensure that the bonds do not fail.”
“It shall be as you desire.”
“Mama! Are we leaving?” Vyvan called out from the darkness.
She rolled her eyes. Vyvan would be staying in the stall for this venture.
“Also, be wary. For if the Water Realm can speak to those of the Convergence, they may already be recruiting Speakers. If you come across any with this power, show no hesitancy. For they will fight you, blow for blow. Do not let them profane this Realm.”
“You have my promise.” Arana stuck her knife in her belt. She sifted dust through her hand. “We leave now, Vyvan. I must speak with your brothers.”
Chapter Four
Willa wiped the sweat from her brow then bent down to pick up another shirt. Draping the wet cloth over the line with one hand, she unclipped a clothespin from her apron with the other. Karvir had made the pins. He could make just about anything.
She paused at her work to savor the sun on her face, imagining it was the warmth of his touch.
“Today,” she told herself. “They’re due back today.”
Four days was, she supposed, a piddling length of time. They’d been separated for ye
ars due to the war. Still, his absences never ceased to ache.
A few feet away, Soot raised his head to nip at a passing fly. Willa laughed. She stooped down and rubbed the dog’s furry, black head. His ears twitched. He jerked away, almost like a teen embarrassed by his mother’s affection. Trea was his true owner. He rarely accepted affection from anyone else, but would roll around with Trea like a puppy at play.
Pet wandered into the yard. She was eight years old with tight, dark curls, and a complexion several shades darker than Willa's, or even her freckled half-brother, Brode. Willa suspected the girl’s mother had been from the southern regions, but Brode knew little of his late stepmother’s history.
The girl plopped down beside Soot and leaned back into his side. The old dog sniffed, tucking his nose between his paws.
“Shouldn’t you be helping Brode in the garden?” Willa raised her eyebrows.
Pet shrugged. “He’s cranky. Can I help you instead?”
“Grab some clothes.” Willa handed Pet some clothespins which the girl stuck in her mouth. Pet took up a stocking to loop over the line. As Pet reached up, Willa noticed a gaping hole under her left sleeve. She clicked her tongue. Hopefully Karvir would bring back some cloth. They could all use new garments.
Pet sighed and bent for another stocking.
Willa's empathy could pick up strong emotions without physical contact, but subtle ones required touch. She placed her hand on Pet’s arm. The girl blinked at her. Emotions ran off the girl’s aspect, allowing Willa to experience the unease of her discontent and self-doubt, as though she’d slipped on another person’s cloak or lain in their bed, all the sensations without the sense of ownership. Willa drew back.
“What’s wrong, Pet?” Willa crossed her arms.
Pet dropped her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Meaning you don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me? If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, but even without reading you, I can see you’re not happy. You said Brode was cranky. Did he yell at you?”
Pet shook her head. “No, he just … I messed up and pulled some of his herbs. They looked like weeds. All plants are green. I don’t get how he can tell the difference.”