by H. L. Burke
Arana tapped her fingers against the packs on the donkey’s back. “True. However, we need the bindmetal to close the gateway. That is our mission. The Water Slave is merely an obstacle.”
“But a dangerous one. You said yourself, the closer we get to the gateway, the stronger she will be. If she reaches it before we do and manages to free the Elementals, will we be able to undo the damage?”
“What do you suggest?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Let me go forward, alone. If I take the steeper path along the side of the hill, I may be able to cut her off.”
“And you think you can take on the Water Slave and her companion?”
“The companion is no threat. Daman was certain he had no powers. It is simply a matter of ending the girl’s life before she has time to summon her Elemental guardians. If I cannot do that, then I do not deserve to call myself your son.” Markyl drew himself up.
Arana narrowed her eyes. “What weapon will you use?”
“My throwing blades.” He patted the sheath at his side.
“And if your first strike misses, and she becomes aware of you? What then?”
“I will not miss.”
Arana knelt and sifted the earth between her fingers. The power soothed her though she couldn’t hear the Earthen Lord’s voice. He had seemed preoccupied of late; though it was not unusual for him to go silent for days at a time, dealing with other servants.
Markyl was well-trained, and yes, if he could not complete such a task, his value was questionable.
“I’m never going to rise among our people if I remain tethered to your ankle, Mother.” He stepped closer. “Let me take up my blade for the Earthen Lord.”
She shook her head. “I should go. I have a greater chance at success.”
“I want this.” His fingers clenched.
This is good. It is time the boy becomes a man … and he would not have the ability to fix the bonds on the gateway. Only an Earthen Lord may do that and only I may summon the Earthen Lord. I can’t leave the bindmetal.
“Go.” She nodded. “Return with your task accomplished or not at all.”
He grinned and took off at a jog.
Arana stroked the bindmetal coils. Their dark energy hummed to her.
I have three sons. What would the loss of one be for the glory of the Earthen Lords?
***
The midday sun baked the top of Quill’s head. She undid her braid, brushed her fingers through her hair, and retied it into a loose ponytail so her scalp could breathe. She wished she'd worn her summer smock rather than her thicker winter dress … of course, she had been grateful for the warm fabric during the cold nights. Still, if Gabrin hadn't been there, it would've been tempting to strip off her dress and walk in her bloomers and shift.
“In my vision the path went down after the crest of the hill, into a forest,” she called to Gabrin, a few yards ahead of her. “The shade will be nice.”
Gabrin didn’t look back.
Quill sighed. I shouldn’t have been so hard on him last night. Well, at least I’ve undermined any chance of being with him. That never would have worked out, anyway.
Gabrin reached the top, turned, and took out his spyglass. Quill caught up with him.
“Do you see anything?” she asked.
He took the spyglass from his eye. “No, and that worries me. Last night they weren’t far behind us. We should be able to catch sight of them. That means they’re either coming very slowly or they’ve taken a hidden route.”
“Maybe something slows them. A prisoner, perhaps?”
“We can hope.” He put away his spyglass and started to walk again. The hill plateaued at the top. Their journey wound through a grassy meadow with dancing yellow flowers. A little off the path lay a large ring of stone surrounded by piles of bricks.
She pointed to it. “Another watchtower?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “The kings of Forra would’ve had an interest in guarding this route. Or it could’ve been some wayfarer’s rest. It’s hard to say.”
“It’s sad how much we’ve lost.”
The hill sloped downward. The path disappeared into a bowl-like valley filled from brim to brim with firs.
Gabrin flipped open his compass. “We’re heading northwest. I really thought we’d be there by now. Did your vision give you any idea how far it would be?”
“No, it … it actually didn’t show me the Evermirror. Just the road into the forest.” She closed her eyes. “I could try and contact them again, using the compass.”
“We can’t risk it. If you go into one of your trances, you’ll be vulnerable.” He let out a long breath. “I’m starting to forget why I wanted this.”
She smiled. “The thirst for discovery? The chance at having your name written in the history books and told in story? The betterment of the human race?”
“Yes, all that. I’d trade that for a hot meal and a soft bed right now.”
“I wish we could.” Quill sighed. “If we stop, I’ll never know what the voices really want, how to control them, what I am. Maybe you should turn back, go help Eanan, but I need to find the Evermirror.”
“No, I’m not letting you go alone.” He touched her hand, and a sense of well-being, of care and concern, filtered through her. She glanced at him, and he took his hand away, smirking. “Can’t let you take all the credit, after all.”
As they descended into the valley, the air tingled against Quill’s skin. Her hair rose on her scalp.
“Do you feel that?” she whispered.
“No, what?”
“I’m not sure. I think we’re close.”
The trees closed over them, cloaking them in cool shadows. The air felt heavier, still alive with the strange energy, but now with weight.
“These woods feel old,” she said, “and lonely.”
He laughed. “Even empathics can’t sense the thoughts of trees.”
“It’s not the trees. Well, not just them.” She stopped and drew a deep breath. Birds sang in muted tones and somewhere in the distance water burbled.
“So close. So close. So close.” The words pulsed with her heart.
The path drew them towards the rush of water. A stone bridge arched over a churning waterway.
“Child, come to us! Come to us!”
Quill swayed. She steadied herself against a tree as the chill rose in her veins, surging from her heart into her arms and head. The movement of the river tickled across her skin like bubbles. Voices rose from the current, many, many voices, clamoring for her attention.
“Child! Child! Child!”
“Quill!” Gabrin grabbed her shoulders.
He seemed so far away. Concern clouded his aspect, mixed with the desperation of the waters.
“Hear us, free us, save us.”
“So many. So loud,” she stammered. “I can’t …”
He pulled her against his chest. Her fingers squeezed into his back until her own flesh bruised from her empathy.
“I’m here. I’ve got you. Breathe.” He propelled her forward. The ground changed beneath the feet, from the uneven, broken stones of the pathway to the smooth, water-worn stones of the bridge, then the crackling twigs and fir needles of the forest floor. The voices grew quieter. The air still prickled, but it was calm.
She hazarded one eye open and found they were no longer in sight of the river. It murmured in the distance; however, it no longer tugged on her soul. Relief swept through her, both Gabrin’s and her own.
A smile played across his lips. “You’re all right?”
“Yes, but … is that what it will be like when I find the Evermirror?” She choked. “I lost myself. Gabrin, what if it consumes me? It was so loud.”
“What did you hear?”
“Voices. Hundreds of voices.”
Gabrin touched her hair. “I don’t know everything about water speaking, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be like that. Eanan’s story made it sound as if each Speaker was in communio
n with a single Elemental, not a legion of them. What do they sound like?”
“It’s the emotions that overwhelm me. They’re desperate, lonely, scared. Before it was one voice. Maybe echoes of others. Only one clear voice, though.”
His hand brushed her cheek. “And now?”
Quill concentrated. She could feel his aspect, like warmth against her skin. The other presences were gone. “It’s over now. They must’ve been in the river itself … or maybe the river gives them the power to speak to me. They’ve always been stronger when I’m near water, I guess.”
“You need to harness it. Perhaps find a way to block out all but one voice. Remember what you did at the canyon? That must’ve taken control and focus.”
She nodded. “What if I can’t? I told you, I’m not brave.”
“You’re here. That alone took courage.”
Her heart throbbed, pulsing in her ears. Control … Focus … Not panic.
Gabrin’s muscles stiffened. He stared past her into the trees.
“What is it?” she asked.
He stepped away. “I thought I heard something. Are you all right alone for a few minutes?”
“I think so.”
He gestured to a thicket. “Get down and keep your ears open. I'll be right back.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gabrin watched Quill settle beneath a blanket of leaves. If he focused he could make out glimpses of the gray cloth of her dress, but hopefully anyone walking by would miss her.
Easy, Gabrin. It was a cracking twig. Could’ve been a deer or a falling pine cone. He loosened his short sword and crept away from the path.
A fragrant carpet of fir needles lay between the trees, making his steps springy and silent. Stepping behind a tree, he stayed still and listened. The feather branches tickled his face.
It must’ve been an animal.
Something rustled nearby. He clenched his sword’s hilt. A young man emerged from the bushes and squinted. His coloring was similar to the Earth Speaker from the Span, a shade darker than Quill and several shades darker than Gabrin himself. This man looked younger though. Something silver glinted in his hand.
A knife? Not an Earth Speaker, then. He wouldn’t need a blade if he were.
He hoped he was right. Facing an Earth Speaker was the last thing he wanted.
The man crept like a stalking cat, towards Quill’s hiding place. Gabrin weighed his options. The man’s knife would be no match for Gabrin’s short sword, but he appeared to have a longer blade sheathed at his side. It was unlikely Gabrin would be able to close the distance between them before the man could draw the second blade.
Gabrin eased himself out of hiding. The man’s back was now to him. The bushes Quill hid in quivered slightly. Had she seen the hunter? Would she act? Had the hunter seen her?
Gabrin stepped forward.
The man spun on his heels. He flicked his wrist and a silver flash danced before Gabrin’s eyes. A sharp pain penetrated his shoulder. He staggered back a step. The man's knife jutted from the flesh beneath his collar bone.
“By the Earth!” The man snarled. “You’re not the Water Slave.”
“No. I am.” A wave of frost crashed into the man, knocking him to the ground.
Gabrin sucked in air. His shoulder throbbed. Quill stepped into the open, her eyes glowing cold blue.
“Leave now!” Her voice quavered, and her hands shook. “I won’t kill you if you leave.”
She’s still empathic. If she kills him, she could die … I can’t let her take that risk.
Drawing his blade, he rushed forward as the man regained his feet.
Another knife flashed into the man's fingers. He drew his arm back, angled towards Quill.
Gabrin bowled into him. He stabbed upward, below the man's rib cage. The man's breath escaped in a whistling wheeze, and he crumpled to the ground.
Quill ran past the body. “You’re hurt!”
Gabrin plopped down. He grasped the knife’s hilt, warm blood oozing onto his fingers. Quill pried his hand from the wound.
“I think it missed everything essential. Blast, it hurts, though.” His eyes watered.
“It didn’t miss by much.” She knelt by his side. “The Creator was looking out for you.”
“That and I caught him off guard. He was intent on you.”
“I should’ve acted sooner. I’m sorry.” Quill probed the area around the injury. “It’s going to take a lot of both our energies to fix this. I’ll have to heal as I remove the blade or the bleeding could get out of hand. I can mend wounds, but I can’t make you new blood. If you lose too much …”
“I have a basic understanding of the circulatory system.” He grimaced.
“More books?” She smiled in a motherly way.
“Yeah.” He gave a wavering laugh. “So do I get to pick the memory you see?”
“No, for trauma like this, I need something potent, core memories, something that is tied into your aspect.” She placed one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his uninjured shoulder. “Lie back. You might pass out.”
He obeyed, staring at the blue sky peeping through the tree branches. His vision swam, and his limbs shook. Sweat beaded on his forehead even though he felt cold. Shock … Another bit of information he’d picked up somewhere. Stay conscious. Don’t give in.
Quill laid her hands on either side of the hilt. Warmth radiated from her touch. Memories flashed through his brain, clear as the moment they were formed. Quill across the fire … “You’re not a bad man. Just a bit of a coward.” Rage and shame fighting in his chest, and longing, longing for every bit of her.
The knife bit at his flesh as Quill withdrew it. Blood spurted, then stopped. Her healing energy pushed away the agony, replacing it with a gentle, buzzing heat. Her face, eyes glowing blue, beautiful, powerful, perfect …
She dabbed at his face with her sleeve. “The bleeding has stopped.”
“That was embarrassing,” his words came out slurred. Great, now I even sound like an idiot.
“Not really.” She avoided his eyes. “I really am sorry for what I said. You’re obviously not a coward.”
He raised a shaking hand to her cheek. “Maybe I finally found something I care about.”
She blushed. “I need to get you off the path. We don't know if that man was alone. Can you walk?”
“I can try.”
Leaning heavily on her, he hobbled into the woods. After a few minutes, however, his legs gave out. His stomach heaved, but he managed to swallow down the bile.
“This is ridiculous. You need to rest,” Quill said.
Gabrin propped himself against a tree and examined the wound, or more accurately where the wound had been. There was a faint scar, pale and puckered, where the knife had entered. He touched it and felt a slight pang, as if the area were bruised beneath the skin. Blood had dried about the wound, making his shirt stiffen and stick to his skin.
He slipped off his pack. “I have a spare shirt. Let me clean up before we get moving again.”
“You really think you can keep going? I can heal wounds but not replenish energy, and your face is practically gray.”
“We can’t afford to stop.” He peeled off his shirt. A twinge shot through him when he raised his left arm, and he winced.
“Here, let me.” Quill took out her canteen and splashed some of its contents onto the clean portion of his shirt. She washed away the dried blood. Her touch sent tingles through his rib cage, and his already-taxed lungs hitched. She paused, and he forced a weak smile. Her movements slowed, her fingertips caressing his shoulder and chest.
He closed his eyes. She has to be doing that on purpose.
“Are you still awake?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, but found opening his eyes again to be harder than expected. Every muscle in his body longed for sleep.
“You probably shouldn’t be. Your body endured a huge shock, and you lost a decent amount of blood.” She handed him her canteen
. “Drink.”
He took a swallow, disgusted to find that his hands shook when he raised the canteen to his lips. “Every moment we linger reduces our chances of survival.”
“Maybe they just sent that man after us. The others could be miles away.” Her voice wavered. She probably didn't believe herself any more than he believed her.
“You want to bet both our lives on that? I’m in no shape to fight, and even if you’re willing, you’re still empathic. What if you kill them and end up hurting yourself?”
“The Elemental said he could shelter me from that. I don’t feel much pushback when I fight with the waters.”
“Much?”
“There is some. This time, especially. When the frost hit him, I felt cold all over. It made my hands shake. That’s why I didn’t strike again.” Quill dug through his pack and found his brown, canvas shirt. She helped him slip it over his head.
Using the tree for support, he pulled himself to his feet. A gray pall fell over his vision. He stumbled backwards as Quill’s arms encircled his chest.
“See. You can’t walk yet.”
After several deep breaths with his head between his knees, he could see again. “I can’t walk … but you can. Looks like you’re on your own from here, kid.” He lay back against the tree.
Her face blanched. “I can’t leave you.”
“If it’s my safety you’re worried about, I’m probably better off without you.” He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. “If we learned anything from that attack, it’s that they have no interest in me. They want the ‘Water Slave.’”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t kill you.”
“I suppose not.” Doubt clouded his thinking. Perhaps this is punishment because I didn’t go back for Eanan.
The space between the trees seemed dark and foreboding … but also offered the promise of shelter. That could give me a chance. If I lie still and quiet, they might walk by me and not even know I’m here. “Look, my instinct is, if you can reach the Evermirror, you’ll be safe. The Water Elementals seem to need your help, and they should be able to shelter you in return. Your best chance, and therefore our best chance, is for you to get there as quickly as possible. I can hide here. When I regain my strength, I'll follow, and maybe even slow down our pursuers.”