Passages

by Passages (epub)

And what was memory.

  Four summers before he’d experienced this storm. Been trying to help his brother with a net and slipped overboard. Panic as the icy water closed over his head. Panic at the sound of voices, both near and far, voices that he knew had always been with him. Voices that weren’t human.

  He could taste the fear as an enormous form rose to stop his tiny body as it sank deeper and deeper . . .

  :You need to shield yourself,: a familiar voice said.

  Petril grabbed hold of that voice and clung tight. “Gonna die, Bryn,” he groaned. “Right here ’n now . . . Cain’t take no more . . .”

  :Nonsense,: Bryn said. :Give me—:

  :Hold,: said another voice. New, yet strangely familiar. :I’ll take it from here.:

  A shiver ran down Petril’s back. Before he could ask who the newcomer was or find out what she (the voice was definitely female) was taking, darkness swept through his mind, smothering the emotions and the yammering voices as if someone had wrapped them in a heavy woolen blanket.

  For the first time since leaving home, Petril felt . . . peace.

  The same peace he’d felt on that long-ago day—when he hadn’t been drowned or eaten.

  Da called it a miracle. The sturgeon—large enough to thrash their boat—had lifted Petril to the surface on the end of its nose.

  And vanished.

  Had that fear—that experience—caused him to lock his Gift away?

  :I’ve shielded you for now,: the new voice said. :But Bryn is correct—you need to learn how to shield yourself. You present an interesting challenge, young man. The Gift of Mindspeech coupled with an unusual amount of Empathy with a dab of Healing thrown in. We’ll deal with all that later. Right now, you need to come outside.:

  To his great surprise, Petril didn’t question the voice. Whoever was in his head meant him no harm, he could feel it. He threw back the covers, gave Mira a shaky grin, and headed for the door. It was time to stop hiding in the shadows, gazing at reflections . . .

  Staying inside me cage . . .

  Taking a firm grip on the handle, Petril flung the door open.

  And stepped outside.

  At least he tried to.

  A bright light blocked the doorway. A light so bright, so white, Petril’s eyes watered. He swiped a hand across his eyes, blinked and blinked again.

  Not a light—a horse. With vibrant blue eyes—

  A Companion.

  “Heyla, Bryn,” Petril said, wondering at the surge of disappointment flooding through him. Then he froze.

  This wasn’t Bryn. He’d never seen this Companion before.

  Had he?

  :We can discuss that later,: the Companion said in a decidedly female voice. She lowered her head and snuffled at his tunic.

  And drew back with a snort. :Smells like you missed a bath or two, but that can wait. First things first, youngling. You are mine and I am yours. Look into my eyes. Time to banish your shadows for good.:

  His imagination had finally taken over, Petril decided. According to Mira, a Companion never asked anyone to look into their eyes . . .

  He had to be imagining . . .

  His hand moved as if possessed, reaching up and touching the Companion’s warm nose. Soft as velvet but solid and . . . real.

  Petril’s knees threatened to buckle, and once again, the world dimmed . . .

  And then the world brightened, the light growing with such intensity he thought he’d go blind. Joy bubbled inside him, growing and growing, till he thought he’d burst into hundreds of pieces too small to feed the tiniest fish.

  It was real. He’d been Chosen.

  He’d imagined this moment, imagined so hard it hurt. Known that if a Companion was to come looking for him, Petril would go with him—or her—faster ’n a fish snagged a bug.

  But no Companion had come knockin’ on his door, as his mum like to say.

  Until now.

  And all those imaginings were nothing more than watered-down milk.

  Chosen.

  Now he could make a difference. Now he could help in ways he’d only dreamed of before.

  Now he could be the hero who just might . . . someday . . . save the world.

  Petril laid a hand on either side of the Companion’s nose, drew in her grass-scented breath . . .

  And looked into her vibrant blue eyes. Eyes so alive, so . . . knowing.

  A thought swept through his mind as he found himself drawn into the Companion’s gaze, an icy splash of reality like the foam off a winter wave.

  No more easy peasy blue gill breezy.

  From now on, life would be a real adventure.

  Flying the Nest

  Michele Lang

  K’Valdemar Vale blazed in all its tropical glory as Sparrow packed her bags yet again, for what seemed like the millionth time. Life pulsated all around her as she fussed around in her ekele, putting things to rights as best she could. She had taken so many trips on Herald business over the years, said so many little goodbyes to this place.

  But this time was different. This time felt like a forever goodbye, to what was gone and could never be called back again. She swept the floor one last time, a huge lump in her throat. Took a moment to glance up, and there was her best friend in the world.

  Roark.

  Hertasi don’t cry, she had it from Roark’s own authority. But mothers like Sparrow sure did.

  Roark’s mouth widened in his toothy grimace of a smile. “When little birds fly the nest, the grown birds fly too,” he said, his scratchy voice and his unblinking amber eyes betraying no emotion.

  But Sparrow had learned over the years the signs of grief in her dearest, homebody friend. The way his dewlap fluttered, the restless clicking of his sharply clawed fingers, all betrayed the same twisting wrench of approaching separation that Sparrow felt.

  Sparrow swallowed past the lump in her throat, cleared it. “I know hertasi don’t tend to go on long trips,” she said. “Any chance you would like to come with us anyway?”

  Roark’s low, bubbling laugh rose out of his spindly, iridescently scaled chest. “No, dear one. I will stay here, in the warm and the flowering, and will leave it to you and your Herald kin to venture out to where it is cold, and dirty, and . . . out of sorts. Such a mess as Haven is not the place for me.”

  His gaze met hers, clear and unwavering as always, and Sparrow wanted to protest that she, too, was not meant for mess and trouble. Her heartmate, Cloudbrother, had been Chosen by a Companion, but Sparrow had been chosen by a hertasi, her personal wizard of domesticity, Roark himself. She had some skills in the healing arts, but no Gift meriting formal Greens. Sparrow’s real magic resided within these walls, in her kitchen, in her weaving. In her love of family.

  And once again—and now for good, she feared—Sparrow had to leave her place of magic behind.

  “They’re waiting for me outside,” she managed to force out, her voice choked with the tears that stayed locked in her throat. “Goodbye, my beloved friend.”

  Sparrow had broken their long, unspoken pact to never say goodbye when she left on Herald business. But they both knew why she had decided to say goodbye now.

  Roark held out his clawed hands. Sparrow first clasped them in her own fingers, then pulled the hertasi close for a brief but fierce last hug goodbye. “Bless you, and may the Mother keep you,” she whispered into the top of his scaled head.

  :Goodbye, little Sparrow: he whispered in her mind as she untangled herself from his cool, bony, reptilian embrace.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath . . . and let her home go.

  And when she opened them again, she realized Roark had silently slipped away.

  Without looking back, she stumbled from inside the ekele out to the brilliant, blinding effusion of sunny glory in the clearing. The air was alive with the
buzz of singing insects and the triumphant songs of Bondbirds perched high in the flowering branches above their heads, calling her to life.

  Time to face forward. Time to ride.

  As always, there waited Abilard, Cloudbrother’s magnificent Companion. Cloudbrother sat astride him, resplendent in his Herald whites, tall and slim as ever in the saddle.

  But this time, a second Companion stood in the clearing, her nostrils flaring, her jeweled eyes taking in the sight of Sparrow with a gentle, knowing gaze.

  Milini had Chosen Sparrow’s son, Thistle, just the night before. And she had brought with her not only the Choice, but an urgent summons to Haven for Thistle’s father, Cloudbrother.

  So, for the first time, Tis no longer sat in front of his father as they departed the Vale, his child’s fingers tangled in Abilard’s mane. Now, he sat astride Milini, looking as though he had always been with her. His serious, tense little face was relaxed now. It was as if he had been waiting for Milini to come for him from the moment he had been born.

  And she had finally arrived.

  Deep down, Sparrow had always known Tis was destined for the life of a Herald. But just as deeply, she had always hoped she would have a little more time with him. The boy was scarcely ten.

  :We could not ever leave without you, Sparrow,: Abilard said to her, and he sent a wave of gentle, loving warmth along with his words, an affirming embrace that despite her lack of Gift, Sparrow was part of this tiny Herald tribe. :You are the heart of us.:

  Sparrow could not Mindspeak in reply, so she stepped forward and caressed his strong, rippling flank with trembling fingers. Abilard had always treated her with especial tenderness and respect.

  Her heartmate sensed her standing alongside his left leg. “I hope you’re ready to ride hard, sweetling,” he said, his voice quiet, his eyes, as always, permanently closed, unseeing. “Milini made it clear that we needed to get to Haven as soon as we can.”

  Sparrow forced her voice to be cheerful. “Hah, hurry up and wait, that’s the Herald way. Or this time, wait and hurry up. No worry, we will go nice and early now, and be well on our way.”

  Cloudbrother had been blind since almost succumbing to a terrible illness as a young child, but Sparrow knew he could sense her misery. Her heartmate was so strong he could afford to be gentle. He reached down, knowing how to find her cheek, caressed her gently and ruffled her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “You have all of the scut of the Herald’s life and none of the glory. But without you . . .”

  She knew everything that he didn’t say aloud. Cloudbrother had proven his mettle as a Herald over and over again, battling demons to the death, saving the Vale itself from attack, bringing rain to the thirsty land of Iftel.

  But his ordinary eyes could not see, and in the realm of the ordinary, the earthbound, the practical, he needed Sparrow to extend his reach in the everyday world.

  And she was so happy to do it, to help her sweetheart in the mundane so that he could leap into the realm of the mind and give his Gift. As he was quick to tell everyone, from his time of training in Haven, “Sparrow and I come in a pair.”

  At times like this, it meant everything to know that her heartmate understood the sacrifices she had made, too. They were not so obvious and grand as his own, or as the sacrifices that every Herald made, but they were no less real to her for being ordinary.

  Sparrow climbed up on the mossy stone they all used as a mounting block in everyday life. She was ready now. She settled in behind her heartmate, wrapped her arms around his muscular waist, and relaxed against his strong, supple back.

  Time to find adventure once again. Thistle was in the place he belonged now, astride his Companion, and in her heart of hearts, Sparrow knew she, too, belonged on this journey of danger and opportunity.

  * * *

  * * *

  Despite the urgency of the summons, they traveled as slowly as they could, as much to give Tis time to bond with Milini as to enjoy the late spring weather. Even after they left the Vale, northern Valdemar bloomed with joy, and birds—sparrows, jays, and songbirds—rustled in great profusion through the branches in the leaves above their heads.

  The Forest of Sorrows had mellowed in the years since Cloudbrother had vanquished the demon Zeth, who had sought to force his way through the Forest and through Cloudbrother himself in order to destroy and control. Though they rode through wilderness, and all wild lands contained danger, the mordant sickness was out of the forest now.

  But Cloudbrother had paid a steep price for his victory.

  The ancient trees along their journey through the Forest grew so thickly their branches intertwined and tangled into a canopy above their heads as they trotted along. Even in midday, they rode in cool, dappled shadows.

  :Mama?: Tis spoke into Sparrow’s mind.

  With a start, Sparrow skittered out of her reverie. She shot Tis a glance to where he rode, looking absurdly small astride Milini. He knew she could not reply to him; he called her to let her know he was thinking of her.

  He met her gaze, his eyes sharp and intense as always. And then his face broke into a luminous smile, one of pure wonder and delight.

  Oh, her intense, driven child. He had been waiting for this day since the day he was born. And now he was on his way. She didn’t need to tell Tis all about the challenges, the sacrifices. He had seen the choices his father made, the hard decisions.

  Tis wanted all of it.

  How could she begrudge him his destiny? She couldn’t. In that moment, riding alongside, she was grateful for the chance to see him off. And Sparrow had no idea that it would be her—the little bird, the little mother—who would face the greatest challenge once they arrived.

  * * *

  * * *

  That night, they stopped to rest at a Waystation outside the village of Brach. They could have stayed at an inn in the village itself, but without ever discussing the matter, all the members of the party knew they would prefer to take their own company, apart from other travelers.

  It was a clear and cloudless night, and before they turned in, the five formed a circle under the swirling stars, around a small fire to keep them warm after their evening meal. They spoke in low voices and looked at the stars more than at each other.

  “Get ready to work hard, son,” Cloudbrother said, the note of sadness in his voice so faint that only Sparrow could discern it. “Once you get to the Collegium, the time will flash by like a single candlemark. You’ll see.”

  “Do you think I can do it?” Tis asked, uncertainty trembling in his words. “The other kids are going to be so much bigger than me.”

  :You are Chosen now for good reason,: Milini whispered reassuringly. Her voice was cool and clear, a bell’s chime in the spring darkness. :I have no doubt you will find your way in Haven, and your joy as well.:

  She was the perfect Companion for Thistle, her calm coolness a needed contrast to his dark intensity. Sparrow was often intimidated by the Companions she had met in her years of service at Cloudbrother’s side. But Milini, tranquil and steady, always sent ripples of peace and serenity through Sparrow’s mind and heart every time she spoke.

  The fire guttered low, down to the cinders. It was time to sleep . . . they planned to rise with dawn’s light and ride for Haven. They made their simple preparations for bed, and in their shelter, Sparrow and Cloudbrother curled up together next to Abilard, while Thistle rested his head on Milini’s flank.

  Quiet and darkness settled over them all like a warm, soft blanket.

  And yet, most uncharacteristically indeed, Sparrow could not sleep. Because she knew that she and Cloudbrother could no longer fly in their dreams.

  They had been grounded ever since his battle with the demon had stolen his Gifts away. Before this, from the time they had been children far smaller than Thistle, Sparrow and Cloudbrother had met o
n the plane of dreams, held hands, and flown the clouds together.

  It was their special place of connection, the place where Sparrow had first fallen in love with him. But they could no longer go there. That elemental home, they had lost without the chance to say goodbye.

  Instead, Sparrow whispered into Cloudbrother’s ear, a tiny puff of sound too quiet to wake the others. “Are you still up?”

  Cloudbrother stirred. “I am now, love.”

  Sparrow grinned into the darkness. She knew he’d said the words with a smile on his beautiful, scarred face. “It’s so dark in here, I can’t see the hand in front of my face.”

  “When a body is trying to sleep, that’s usually a good thing.”

  Sparrow sighed. “Yes, but . . .”

  “But . . . a mother bird is restless, guarding her fledgling.”

  She snorted, as delicately as she could. “Well, I guess. I just . . .” She hesitated, not sure if she should go on with her thoughts. Not sure if it was fair to destroy his sleep because hers eluded her.

  “No, go ahead, say it.”

  “What’s going to happen to me? To us?”

  Silence greeted her words, urging her to continue. “Once Tis is gone, it’s just you and me again. Is Abilard . . . going to go back to the Grove now?”

  Cloudbrother knew what she was after. His Gift was gone, away with the demon, and his life in the Vale had been anticlimactic indeed after such a battle. Did Heralds retire? After all that Cloudbrother had gone through, maybe the Council was going to suggest a rest of some kind, for both Cloudbrother and his Companion.

  His voice remained steady. “My love, this pairing is for life, just like with you and me. Boredom is a greater sacrifice sometimes than death. But I’m sure that Abilard would never leave me, and there is a reason we are all together. And I’m thinking that tomorrow, at the Council meeting, we are going to find out why.”

  Sparrow thought about it for a bit, matching her breathing to his, trying to relax. “But what’s going to happen to us? Once Tis is off to the Collegium, what are we going to do with ourselves?”