by H. L. Burke
A shock cut through her.
“Hear … us! Let us speak!”
She shook her head. No, I’m imagining this. I’m imagining you.
The sound of water, crashing over a cliff, an endless roar, swept through her.
It’s the wind across the grass. … although the air was still and warm around her.
“Hear us!”
Someone touched her arm.
She yelped and whirled, throwing her hand back. It impacted against something with a crunch. Pain shot through her face, as if someone had backhanded her.
“Ouch! Ships, Quill!” Gabrin clasped his nose. Blood trickled from under his hand.
She rubbed her face.
He grimaced. “You felt that too?”
She nodded.
“You’re not bleeding, though?” He tilted his head back.
She shrugged and offered him a handkerchief. “I get the pain but not the wound itself.”
When he pulled his hand away, she gasped. His nose looked slightly … off. Near crimson and already twice its natural size.
“I think it is broken,” Quill said.
“Why did you hit me?”
“You surprised me. I’m sorry.”
Quill reached towards his face, and he flinched away.
“Don’t touch it!”
“I’m a healer, remember. Would you sit down?”
He eased himself to the ground. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his jaw tensed under her fingers.
“It’s crooked, isn’t it? You’ve ruined my face.” Blood flowed from his nostrils. She took her handkerchief and sopped it up.
“It adds character. Creator knows you could use some of that.” She gently probed the area. In spite of her best efforts, he still cringed, and his pain shot through her fingertips like needles. “Easy. Breathe in …”
“It’s hard.”
“We have two options. I can heal it. It won’t hurt, but if I don’t set it first, it’ll always be crooked. If I set it, it will heal more naturally …”
“But it will hurt?”
“Only for a moment. I can heal it immediately after it’s set.”
He dabbed at the blood. “It’ll hurt you too?”
“Not more than I can handle.”
“All right, if you’re willing, go for it.”
Bracing herself, she formed her hands in a pyramid around his nose. Anxiety rose off him, and his gray eyes widened, making him look younger. Even knowing what she was about to do would hurt her as much as him, her heart yielded to him.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She brought her hands downward. The nose snapped into place. Pain shot through her, and her eyes watered. He huffed, stood, and stepped backwards, gingerly pinching the bridge of his wounded snout.
“I still need to heal it.” She reached for him.
He craned his head back. “I’m not sure I want you poking around in my brain.”
Quill placed her hands on her hips. “You’d rather keep bleeding?”
“You’ll see my memories when you heal me, won’t you?” His eyebrows drew together.
She glanced around. Did she really want to deal with his nonsense? Eanan was coming down the hill, towards them. He’d want to move out immediately, whether Gabrin was healed or not.
“Look, I’ll tell you a secret. Empathics do get a glimpse at your memories during the process, but if you focus on a particular memory, you can control what we see. Just pick something you don’t mind sharing, what you ate for breakfast, for instance. It doesn’t have to be deep and revealing.”
“I guess I can handle that.” He bent his neck towards her, and again she cupped her fingers around his nose. Warmth stirred under her skin, and her fingertips glowed—yellow.Thank the Creator, not blue.
Images flashed in her head: a smoky room, ill-lit, a buxom woman swayed seductively … the dancer stooped, giving Quill an eyeful of cleavage.
Quill scowled at him and pulled away.
Smirking, Gabrin rubbed his nose. The swelling was gone, and it appeared its normal fleshy pink. “Feels better already. You empathics certainly have the magic touch.”
“That was the memory you chose?” She clicked her tongue.
He grinned. “First thing that came to mind. You’re lucky I didn’t choose what happened later that evening.” He winked.
“Don’t make me break your nose again.”
Eanan strode up. “No sign of people in the area.” He squinted at Gabrin. “Is that blood?”
“Just a nosebleed.” Gabrin shrugged. “We ready to go then?”
“I suppose … it doesn’t seem quite human to leave them here.” Eanan nodded towards the bodies lying a few feet away. “I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Quill didn't look back as they started down the road. She repeated her prayer, hoping the men’s families would somehow be granted peace.
Chapter Twelve
Freda finished feeding the chickens and turned to the laying boxes. She wrinkled her nose against the smell of ammonia. With only three people to divide up the chores, they seemed to stretch on forever. A part of her blamed Quill for running off … and Karvir for feeling compelled to go after her.
Three brown eggs rested within the boxes, still warm to the touch. She slipped them out while the hens busied themselves with the grain.
Returning to the cabin, Freda found Pet scratching circles into the dirt with a long stick.
“Shouldn’t you be helping Willa in the garden?” Freda asked.
The girl shrugged. Her mouth drooped at the corners. She drew another circle, this one spiraling inward like a whirlpool.
Soot frisked into the yard. He licked Pet’s hand, padding across her circles.
“Oh, Soot! No.” Pet stuck out her bottom lip at the paw prints marring her handiwork.
Willa came up behind the dog, lugging a basket of vegetables. “Am I the only one working this morning?”
“Animals are fed, and the water barrel’s full,” Freda answered.
Willa glanced at the ground. “More circles, Pet?”
“It helps.” Pet’s voice quavered.
Freda hesitated. Did I miss something? Why’s she upset?
A tear trickled down Pet’s cheek. Willa slipped her arm around Pet and led her inside, Freda following.
“Tell me why the circles help.” Willa pulled a chair out for Pet and dumped the vegetables in the wash basin.
“I imagine they’re portals. The different ones are different in my head.”
Willa took a piece of charcoal from the fire. She passed it to Pet then tapped the wooden tabletop. “Show me.”
Pet swallowed. She scratched a circle with lines radiating outwards like the sun onto the table. “The ones I used to open, the ones the Fire Folk came from, felt bright and strong. When I think about water, though, they start all swirly in my head.”
“Swirly?” Freda asked.
Pet drew one of her spirals. “They flicker out before they get very big or strong. When I think about air …” She scribbled quickly then smudged the edges into an indistinct cloud. “It’s blurry somehow, like it never stops moving, but they also don’t last.” The fourth circle she filled in, strong and dark. “The earth ones, though, are hard and solid … but dead somehow. They last the longest, almost as long as the fire portals, but I can’t hear anything from inside, as if the whole world’s sleeping.”
Freda eased closer and whispered into Willa’s ears. “I thought we didn’t want her playing with these things.”
“We can’t stop her forever. It’s her purpose. We just have to find a way to make it safe.” Willa drummed her fingers on the table.
Freda rubbed her arms. Portals could never be safe. That was the whole point of Karvir’s sacrifice: to shut them and keep them shut.Willa, of all people, should understand that.
“I thought you stood with Karvir on the portals. You were right at his side when he challenged Eanan over this Evermirror
foolishness.” Freda fingered her braid. She pulled Willa towards the door then whispered. “Maybe we should talk about this away from Pet.”
Willa nodded. “Pet, there are still some dishes left over from breakfast. Would you wash them up for me? Freda and I will be outside.”
Once in the yard, Freda drew a deep breath. “I trust you, but I also trust Karvir, and in this case, my instinct is he’s right. We spent decades, sacrificing so much, to get those portals closed. Opening them again seems like a death wish.”
“I would've agreed with you a week ago, however … Quill has been hearing from the Water Realm, Freda.”
“All the more reason not to speak with them!” Freda said. “Remember what they did to Meghil?”
“The Fire Folk did that to Meghil, not the Water. Quill wouldn't be drawn to something evil, and … if they are drawing her in, I need to know why. I need to know what they want with my child. Who they are and what they are going to do to her.” Willa’s voice cracked.
“We are all worried about Quill,” Freda soothed.
“I know but sitting here at home, with nothing I can do to help her is eating me alive.” Willa dabbed at her eyes. “What if they aren't like the Fire Folk? What if they can help us?”
“And if they aren’t interested in peace?”
“Then we shut the portals.” Willa sighed. “Speaking with them might not even be possible, though. For whatever reason, she can’t create stable portals to anywhere except the Fire Realm. There must be a reason for that, and I want to find out what it is.”
Freda stared at their cabin. It wasn’t much, a tiny structure in the middle of the wilderness, but it was home. “All right, but we take precautions and think of ways to defend ourselves. Fire Elementals have two weaknesses: water and icestone. What about the other varieties?”
“I’m not sure. Bring some icestone arrows, just in case. Worst case scenario: she opens a fire portal by mistake and we have to deal with that.”
“I can take on an Inferno Lord with icestone.” Freda cracked her knuckles. “I’ve actually rather missed that, seeing those monsters snuffed out.”
“Well, if we are going to form alliances, we should probably not think of them as monsters. They’re beings, with souls presumably, as much as we are.”
Somehow Freda doubted that. She’d seen too many men burn like chaff before the fiery hordes to believe them capable of anything but evil. However, maybe the Water Folk were different.
***
Brode stared at the corpses on the side of the road.
“That’s Quill’s cloak. Look, I recognize the patch.” Trea's voice wavered.
Karvir knelt beside one and brushed aside the covering.
Cold relief swept through Brode. It was a man, not Quill.
When the second corpse was uncovered and also proved to be a stranger, Trea sighed. “But that is her cloak, isn’t it? Who are these people?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see much sign of a struggle.” Karvir rose and scanned the ground. “Some odd markings in the dirt. I’m not sure how to read them, almost as if someone dug a pit then covered it up.”
“Another body, maybe?” Brode’s throat tightened.
“Why would they bury one but not these two?” Trea said. “Look, the earth beneath this one is rippled, like someone poured out a water offering. That’s just the sort of thing Quill would do! She must’ve been here not that long ago.”
Karvir’s hands glowed red. “Yes, I don’t think they are more than a day ahead of us. Perhaps these men were bandits, and they had to kill them in defense … this one obviously died violently but this one … strange.”
Brode’s mind flashed back to one of the worst days of his life, finding his stepmother’s body floating in the pond near their farm, her lips blue with cold and death. “He kind of looks like … he drowned or froze.”
“Whoever they are or however they got here, we can’t leave them like this.” Flames roared to life between Karvir’s fingers. “You might not want to watch.”
Brode turned away, not so much because he feared the sight of the burning bodies, but he knew if he watched, Trea would as well, to prove her mettle. She didn’t need to see that.
Sure enough, when he moved away, Trea followed. The gut-twisting smell of burnt flesh rose over them. His stomach heaved.
“I’m not going to be able to eat tonight,” Trea said.
Brode laughed uncomfortably. “Well, at least we know she’s still alive.”
“You must be relieved.”
Brode blinked. “I … I suppose. You are, too, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” She flushed.
Brode shifted from foot to foot. It seemed he understood Trea less and less with each passing day. She still fascinated him, sort of like a wild cat who allowed him to feed and pet her one minute then hissed and clawed at him the next for no particular reason. Sometimes he worried he’d never be able to solve her, and because of that he’d make a mess of it when the time came to court her. Still, now wasn’t the time to think of such things. Quill’s safety was of first importance. He might not understand Trea, but he knew she loved her sister. If something happened to Quill, it would shatter Trea’s heart.
He glanced back. Dark smoke rose from the corpses. Karvir stood next to them, glowing like an ember, occasionally stoking the fire with his natural heat. A shudder cut down Brode’s spine. The man was so familiar, like his second father, that it was easy to forget how monstrous his form and abilities were.
“I’m glad he’s on our side,” he mumbled.
Trea touched his hand. “We need to find her and get home. Then everything will be all right.”
Karvir floated towards them, his hazy being near-transparent. His core glowed like an ember where his chest would’ve been if he were solid.
“It’s done, but the burning took much of my strength. I’ll need to renew myself soon.”
“Let’s at least try to make the trees.” Trea reached back and touched her bow, which hung from the side of her pack. “I feel exposed out here.”
Brode concentrated on the treeline to avoid looking at Trea. He hated seeing her without her ready smile. Her feet dragged along the stones, and she hadn’t chuckled in days. It all made his chest tighten. He wanted to offer her comfort, but such things never ended well. She hated being coddled.
Getting Quill back will fix things. Trea will be her old self again.
He imagined breaking through to where she’d accept his affection, holding her, his arms so tightly about her that nothing could get between them. Loving her, actively rather than secretly, would give everyday activities a new purpose. Even now, when he worked in the garden, it was to feed her. When he chopped firewood, it was to keep her warm. The other members of their family were important, but caring for Trea turned toil to joy.
At the edge of the forest, the road’s condition deteriorated. Tree roots pushed up the stones, and moss and leaves covered large sections, making it almost disappear under the tangle of nature.
The low sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows. The greenery reminded him of the area around the dirt farm of his childhood: broad-leafed oaks with scaly bark and sweet-scented deer brush. After days of walking under the sun, the shade felt like a cool hand against his brow.
“Let’s find a clear spot off the road and make a fire. I can’t walk much farther.” Karvir’s usually deep, crackling voice came in a low hiss.
“Dad, are you all right?” Trea asked. “We can stop here …”
“No, it’ll be safer for all of us, and I can endure a little longer.” Karvir trailed an insubstantial hand across his daughter’s forehead.
“We should still hurry, sir.” Brode frowned. “The terrain seems to slope downward from here.” He pointed to the left of the road. “The lower ground should keep the wind off our fire.”
“Good thinking, Brode.” Karvir’s eyes flickered, as dim as distant stars.
Worry spiked in
Brode’s chest, and he quickened his pace.
They set up camp in a hollow. Karvir melted into the flames of their fire with a crackling sigh. Trea held her hands to the blaze. The wrinkle between her eyebrows finally smoothed. Brode smiled.
Someday I need to come up with a way to tell her she’s pretty that won’t get me punched.
She looked up, catching his gaze. “What is it?” The wrinkle returned.
His cheeks warmed. “Nothing … it’s just, you looked happy for a moment.”
“Simply relieved.” She shrugged and stood up.
He followed her away from the fire, a deep layer of rotting leaves and twigs snapping underfoot.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I forget how vulnerable he is, how hostile this world is to him. He pretends to be so strong, but a few drops of water or days without fire.” Her shoulders hunched. “I don’t want to lose him again.”
Brode reached for her arm then drew his hand back and rubbed his forehead instead. “He’s not going anywhere … I mean, anything could happen, I guess. I’ve lost enough people to know that. Still, Karvir knows how to handle himself. Besides, we’re both here. We’ll look after him.” He forced a smile.
She laughed. “I suppose someday, you’ll be the patriarch of the settlement, protector and provider.”
“You’re as capable of that as I am.” He chuckled.
Her smile faded. “I’m not a man.” She turned and stomped back to camp.
Brode kicked a stick across the forest floor. I never say the right thing. When I treat her like a girl, she hates it. When I treat her like just another guy, she hates that too. What am I doing wrong?
Chapter Thirteen
Arana flipped open the donkey’s pack and fingered the contents. The bindmetal cables lay like black, coiled snakes. She still remembered the first time she’d seen the metal and foolishly assumed it would be as light as fiber ropes. These cables came directly from the Earthen Realm, for only those Elementals could manipulate the unyielding metals into such shapes. Inhabitants of the Sanctuary used scraps of bindmetal to craft good-luck charms or to enhance weapons and armor. The metal radiated a dark energy that vibrated through Arana’s skin and bone.