by H. L. Burke
“It takes practice. I did that when I was young too.” Willa ruffled her hair.
“I mess up everything, though. There’s nothing I’m good at. You and Quill can make people feel better with a touch, and Freda and Trea can hunt, and Brode’s got his garden, and Karvir can fix anything and light fires just looking at them … I’m not good at anything.”
“Pet, you’re young. None of us were good at those things when we were born. We had to learn.” Willa tugged half a large blanket out of the basket. “Grab the other side and keep it out of the dirt for me.”
Pet obeyed, and the two managed to get it over the line unsoiled.
“I know, but … the thing I’m really good at, the thing I want to do … I can’t do it.” Pet’s mouth hardened into a thin line.
Willa let out a long breath. “You mean the portals.”
Pet nodded.
“I know that must be frustrating, but even if the portals didn’t let Fire Folk through, they might use them to discover our location and bring their human followers here. Remember how we had to flee the Haven? All those men trying to find you? It isn’t safe.”
“But I want to open portals … and I'll never be able to because it's bad.” Pet’s voice quavered. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“It’s not bad. Just dangerous. At one point in our history, the portal keeper was an important part of our world. The war with the Fire Elementals changed that, but maybe, someday, things will be different again.” Willa wiped Pet’s tears with the corner of her apron. She picked up the now empty basket. “Let’s go inside. I left some beans soaking. They’re probably ready to cook.”
Pet shuffled her feet as they crossed the yard to the cabin. “What if I could open portals to somewhere else? Not the Fire Folks’ land but to a place where the Elementals don’t want to hurt us. There are three other Realms, aren’t there?”
Willa pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “Maybe someday, but you’ve never been able to do that, have you?”
“I was kind of practicing … at the Haven before we had to run away and hide. Brode didn’t like it.”
“Brode doesn’t like risks, and playing with portals is a risk.” The door to the cabin was propped open. Willa set the laundry basket in a corner and brought down one of her two precious cooking pots, both of which hung from the rafter by hooks.
“It didn’t work anyway. When I tried to concentrate on portals not going to the Fire Realm, they almost always fizzled out.” Pet pushed back a chair and sat, her elbows on the table.
“Almost always?” Willa frowned.
Quill had placed a bouquet of daisies in an earthen jar that morning. Pet now took one and began plucking off the petals. “Sometimes they didn’t, but I wasn't sure where they went to. Nothing ever came through, and I didn’t know they went somewhere else. I just kind of felt it.”
Willa drummed her fingers against the side of the pot. She’d set aside some herbs to simmer with the beans. Her to-do list flashed through her head, not even a quarter completed, and it was almost midday. Still, certain things were more important than chores. She sat across from Pet.
“Someday, maybe, we can let you try to open portals to other Realms. When Karvir and I chose this home, we knew it was too small to hold you forever. Even Quill and Trea will likely outgrow it and want to experience the world outside these woods. The point was to keep you all safe in the here and now. In a few years, we’ll help you find your place. I promise.”
Pet smiled.
Out in the yard, Soot gave a sharp bark. Willa glanced out the door as he darted into the trees. Her heart lifted.
“That must be Karvir and Trea! They’re early. Let’s go greet them.”
Freda, Brode, and Quill joined them in front of the cabin.
She smelled Karvir before she saw him, like the faint scent of a dying campfire. She undid the twine holding back her hair, allowing it to fall about her face. He floated through the trees, nearly transparent, and condensed before her.
Laughing, she embraced him. “I missed you.”
Karvir often remained in a fade for their embraces. In his solid form, he said external sensations felt muffled, as if he experienced the world through a layer of burlap. Faded, his being sank into her skin. His warmth soothed her, and she relished his calming aspect.
Slowly, he allowed himself to harden. His rough hand brushed her cheek. “I missed you, too.”
Something within his aspect tugged at her. Under the usual sensations of love and familiarity dwelt a nibbling unease. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Where’s Trea?” Brode asked.
“She's coming.” Karvir withdrew from Willa. His gaze swept over the gathered family members. “We met someone in Northport, and I wanted … Well, Willa—”
Soot burst out of the trees behind them. He barked several times and flattened his ears against his head. A man followed after him. Willa’s whole being went cold.
“I asked you to wait,” Karvir snapped.
“I couldn’t,” the man said.
Willa quivered. She knew that voice. This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. This can’t be real.
The man stepped closer. His hair was grayer and thinner, the wrinkles about his eyes more pronounced, but those eyes …
“Father?” she breathed. “How …?”
“You really are alive.” He rushed forward and took her in a rib-crushing embrace.
The emotions rolling off him mixed with her own confusion. Her head spun.
“I’d half convinced myself you wouldn’t be … that it was too much to hope for and a cruel trick.” Eanan’s voice cracked. He pulled away, tears glistening on his cheeks. “But here you are, my little Willa.”
“I wanted to give her a chance to prepare.” Karvir hovered behind Eanan, hands on his hips.
Eanan snorted. “I’m hardly a monster. She’s happy to see me. Aren’t you, Willa?” He smiled.
She stepped back. Her knees weakened, and she flailed for an anchor emotion, one thing to focus on to give her firm standing. Her fingers trembled.
Karvir stepped forward and took her hand. “After twenty years, you might as well be a ghost.” He angled himself between her and her father. “You shouldn’t have burst in on her like that.”
She pushed past the anger and frustration buzzing on Karvir’s surface and latched onto his protection. Her breath steadied.
“No, I’m fine.” She held up her hand. “It was just a shock.” One more long inhalation, and she released Karvir’s hand. She gazed at her father. “How did you find us?
“Mom, who is this?” Quill asked.
Willa glanced to the side. The other members of their settlement, including her daughter, stood in a tight group, staring at her. What a spectacle she must’ve made of herself.
Eanan stepped closer to Quill. Freda edged between them, her jaw set.
“He’s harmless, Freda,” Karvir said. “You can ease up.”
Freda took a step back, but her eyes still focused on Eanan like a hawk tracking a mouse.
“You’re her daughter? The empathic one?” Eanan asked. Quill nodded. “Oh Willa, she looks so much like you did.”
Trea jogged into the yard, followed by a young man.
Brode’s eyes widened at the new arrival. “I’m sorry. Who are these people?”
“This is Eanan … My father.”
“And him?” Brode pointed at the other man.
“My name’s Gabrin.” The man smiled, one side of his mouth quirking up towards his twinkling eyes. “No relation.”
“We met them in Northport,” Trea explained. Soot frisked to her side, and she stroked his neck.
Quill glanced over Eanan’s shoulder. “I thought you said your family left on the ships before we were born.”
“They did.” Willa shrugged. “Apparently they’re back. Where’s Mother? And Val and Mara?”
Eanan cleared his throat. “One thing at a time. I’m sure we both have a li
fetime of questions. I have so many stories—”
“I just want to know if they are alive and well,” she interrupted.
Eanan’s smile faded. “They are, all of them.”
“And will they be joining us?” Willa swallowed. A desire to see her mother such as she hadn’t felt since her daughters were infants clamped down on her stomach.
“No, they …” He rubbed his hands together. “They didn’t choose to accompany me. It’s a long story.”
She closed her eyes. At least they’re alive. “Why don’t you come inside, then? I’ll make you all something to eat, and we can talk.”
Brode pasted himself to Trea’s side, still watching Gabrin while Eanan, Karvir, Pet, and Quill followed Willa inside.
Willa handed Pet a wooden bucket. “Go get some water. I need enough for tea as well as the beans. You may need to take two trips, or ask Trea for help.”
Pet lugged the empty bucket from the cabin.
Willa stood on her tiptoes to claim her herb collection and mesh strainer. A fresh floral scent rose off the pine-wood box, lovingly but crudely painted blue and red by her daughters, years before. She inhaled. The mix of mint, chamomile, and feather blossom steadied her. She selected a handful of wild rosehips and some dried feather blossom, and dropped them into the tea kettle.
“Do you still like it with goat’s milk?” she asked, surprised at how that memory leapt to the front of her brain.
“No, I prefer it straight now. Easier on the stomach.” He pulled out a chair and sat down.
Karvir slipped into the coals, causing the fire to spring to life.
Eanan raised his eyebrows. “Can he still hear us when he’s … in there?”
“Yes,” Karvir’s voice rose from the hearth.
“Interesting. I didn’t know Charred had that ability.”
“He’s not really a Charred. Charred are reanimated corpses. Karvir never died. He just … altered slightly.” She kept her back to her father. He’s here. That means he wishes to make peace. You can forgive him. Concentrate on what once was.
“Slightly?”
“He’s still the same person,” Quill said. “It doesn’t matter what he looks like.”
“I’m not saying otherwise. He’s obviously provided for you all. That’s more than I’d hoped for.”
Willa hung the tea kettle over the flames.
“So I’m assuming you did find a safe haven?” She sat across from her father.
He nodded. “We were at sea for over a month. Lost a few ships, but in the end we found a chain of six small islands. Not much land, but enough to support those who survived the crossing. The fishing’s good there.” He rubbed his hands over the tabletop. “Your siblings both started families and laid down roots quickly enough. Your mother and I thought of returning for you a few times, but we feared what we’d find, and the passage was so hazardous, no one wanted to risk it. Our folk truly believed only ruins would remain of Forra.”
“Perhaps now that you know better, some will consider a return.”
“Perhaps, though twenty years of work, building new homes and lives, is hard to leave behind.”
Quill took a seat at the table. “So you came back to look for us?”
“No. I'd thought that Willa would’ve perished. I’m glad to be wrong. Why I chose to return is quite a tale.” His eyes twinkled, and Willa laughed. Her father had always possessed a well-earned reputation for loving the sound of his own voice, but still, she had never known a better storyteller.
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his chin. Quill’s eyes widened.
“I’ve always been devoted to preserving what little remained of Forra’s culture. During the war so much was lost, our temples, libraries, and schools burned. So many parents forsook teaching the simple arts of reading and writing in their desperation to keep their children alive. However, some books survived, and I made it my mission to collect all the oral history I could. I would hold meetings with the survivors and have them recount what they could remember: myths, folktales, family histories. Much of it was contradictory foolishness, but after a bit patterns began to emerge, and I wrote them down.
“That’s when I met Gabrin. He was only a boy at the time. His father was the captain of one of the refugee ships, and he trained Gabrin well in navigation, astronomy, and even some meteorology.”
Quill cast Willa a frazzled glance.
“Meteorology is the study of weather patterns,” Willa explained. “Astronomy …”
“Oh, I know the other two.” Quill flushed. She nodded to Eanan. “What sort of stories did you record?”
“Ah, I could sit here for days and days and never run out. It became an obsession with me.” He eased back in his chair. “But what I was most interested in were the stories about the portals—”
A crash interrupted him. Pet stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and water pooling about her feet from the dropped bucket. Willa sprang up.
“It’s all right, Pet. Just go get another one. You aren’t in trouble.” She concentrated on Pet’s eyes. The girl let out a breath and nodded. She scurried back towards the spring.
Willa picked up a mop from the corner and pushed the water out into the yard.
“The little one isn’t yours, obviously.” Eanan raised an eyebrow. “Are her parents with you? I know you had a brother, Karvir. Is she …?”
“Ketyl’s dead, and no, Pet and Brode aren’t blood.” Karvir rose out of the fire. “We gathered them up, so to speak, and gave them a home. Same with Freda.” The cracks in his dark skin glowed bright red. “However, we’ve stuck with them and they with us, and that’s the definition of family.”
Eanan scowled. Willa flinched. This wasn’t going to be easy if Karvir decided to start throwing darts.
“You were saying something about the portals?” she prodded.
Eanan cleared his throat. “In my history, I’ve labeled the time between the death of the last human portal keeper and the beginning of the Fire Elemental invasion ‘the Great Silence.’ You see, my dear,” he leaned closer to Quill, “once upon a time, the Realms lived in harmony. The portal keeper opened portals into all four Elemental Realms, so we could commune with their inhabitants.”
Quill nodded. “I know. Mom’s told me that story.”
“Oh really? Well, I’m the one who first told it to her. What else do you know about the portals?”
“Well, when a keeper dies, the powers pass to a different Realm. After the human keeper’s death, though, no portals opened for hundreds of years.”
“2,320 years, to be precise.” Eanan tilted his head back. “Do you know about the Elemental Speakers?”
Quill’s brow furrowed. “No. What’s that?”
“Something that died out at the beginning of the Great Silence. I only found vague rumors of them, hidden throughout fairy tales and salvaged books. Some humans—due to spiritual or physical traits, or perhaps a mix of both—are naturally attuned to certain Elementals and able to hear their voices even without the portals. However, at the death of the portal keeper, those with this ability found themselves cut off, deaf to the powers that used to speak to them on a daily basis.”
Quill’s face blanched. “You mean they could hear the Elementals? Like in their dreams?”
“From my understanding, they could hear them all the time, dreaming or not, and when in communion with the Elementals they were given powers: increased stamina, healing, the ability to manipulate elemental forces.”
“Like the cultists.” Willa exchanged a glance with Karvir.
“Cultists?” Eanan raised his eyebrows.
“Late in the war, some humans allied with the Fire Folk and tried to aid them. We had some tussles with groups of them and … some people we considered friends betrayed us for the cult,” Karvir explained.
Willa put her hand on his shoulder. Karvir’s brother had been one lost to the fires, corrupted by the fire cult shortly before his death.
“I
nteresting. So the powers are returning.” Eanan rubbed his hands together.
“So the Speakers could hear other Elementals?” Quill twisted her braid in her hand. “Not just fire?”
“Yes, all four Elements had sanctuaries here in the Convergence where they trained Speakers. I like to imagine that in those days, you would’ve been a water Speaker, Willa. Empathics apparently had an aptitude for that.”
“I’m fine simply being empathic. I don’t need Elementals whispering in my brain.” Willa frowned.
Eanan shrugged. “This is where it gets interesting, though: each Speaker sanctuary was built near a gateway, a permanent portal into that particular Realm. You see, the portal keeper couldn’t be at all four sanctuaries at once, so in order for the Elementals to have access to their followers, four mystical gateways were created. The doorway into the Water Realm is my particular obsession. It was called the Evermirror.”
A chill crept down Willa’s neck, and her hand tightened into Karvir’s shoulder. He slipped his arm about her.
“I’ve never heard that part of the story,” he said.
“Wood Folk aren’t exactly known for their book learning.” Eanan snorted.
“Father!” Willa chided.
He smiled. “Just a playful jab. We’re family after all.”
“Sure.” Karvir sniffed. “Family.”
“What is the Evermirror like?” Quill asked.
“Beautiful and wondrous.” Eanan sighed.
“And vague.” Karvir crossed his arms. “What does this have to do with you being back in Forra?”
“The story takes time, but if I must rush to the end …” Eanan sighed. “The main reason none of us wished to return to Forra was the fear we’d find it still at war, or worse, discover the war had been lost and only fiery ruins remained. However, this didn’t sit well with me, and sometimes I’d lie awake at night considering ways we might turn the tide, so to speak. After a bit I began to take that more literally: what if we could influence the tides? The Fire Elementals’ one true weakness is water, after all. I began to devote all my studies, all my investigation, to the Evermirror.” His eyes gleamed. “Imagine! Opening a portal to the Water Realm and raining death upon the Fire Folks’ heads.”