by DM Fike
Guntram let the wind die down around us. “Yes, we should rest.”
Sertalis stepped aside to let Guntram through. “I wouldn’t want to tire you out before such an important meeting with the Oracle. Good luck tomorrow. You’ll need it.”
Guntram said nothing as he stalked past him. Sertalis decided he didn’t need to move out of the way for me, though, and intentionally butted his side against my shoulder as I tried to go through.
“Watch where you’re going, haggard,” he hissed down at me.
I slapped on a forced smile. “My apologies, snake charmer.”
An orange fiery haze flashed in his irises. I ignored it as I scurried to catch up to Guntram.
Once we were out of earshot, Guntram said, “I thought I told you to exercise tact.”
“Don’t start with me. Even your ravens knew you were about to blow him away.”
Guntram’s shoulders slumped. “Sertalis does know how to get under my skin.”
“He’s one of those influential shepherds you were talking about, huh?”
Guntram nodded. “He’s the augur with the highest seniority in both homesteads now that Tabitha is gone.”
I never thought I’d live to see the day where I missed Tabitha’s overbearing presence. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to live with him. He seems like such a fun, chill guy. He’d never out you in an anonymous letter to the homestead owner’s association, for sure.”
“Sertalis is not a bad shepherd, not by any stretch of the imagination. He’s devoted, talented with fire pith, and banished more than his fair share of vaetturs. He just has a propensity toward authoritarianism that I don’t agree with.”
I shot Guntram a sly smile as I thought of how often I’d gotten into trouble for going against direct orders. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
Guntram did not share in my humor. “Just watch your back, Ina. Sertalis knew we were coming and had his kidama notify him when we arrived. He’s influencing Darby’s petition. That makes tomorrow’s meeting with the Oracle dangerous.”
I nodded but couldn’t quite work myself up to Guntram’s level of concern. I’d been hated by other shepherds ever since I became an eyas. I had a lot of practice with veiled threats and insults.
CHAPTER 7
A LOUD BANGING shot through my skull and deep into my subconscious. A muffled voice followed.
“Ina? Time to rise and shine.”
I cracked my eyes open, half expecting stiff straw to poke my bare arms as I shifted in the bed. Instead, a down-stuffed mattress and matching pillow caressed my body. I sneezed as a stray feather tickled my nose.
I blearily assessed the rest of the room. A stone ceiling with matching walls housed one large glassless window with a modest breeze sweeping in. A magically controlled fire burned in the simple fireplace on the opposite side of the raised wooden bedframe. A chair with an embroidered cushion accompanied a large writing desk and set of drawers, all made of the same light-colored wood.
My eyebrows grew heavy. It was still near dawn. The sheets were soft. I couldn’t think of a reason to get out of bed just yet.
The pounding intensified along with Guntram’s decibel level. “Ina? Don’t make me come in there and drag you out.”
He would too. “I’m coming, Jichan,” I snarled at the door. Yawning, I placed my bare feet on the ground, finding the stone floor pleasantly warm with carved fire sigils etched into them.
I laced on my hiking boots and trudged downstairs. Unlike Sipho’s lodge, the northern homestead had what they called a “hostel,” a two-story stone inn with all the spacious bedrooms upstairs. The bottom floor housed an area that could have swallowed our lodge whole, complete with an open area kitchen with three stoves and enough counterspace to cook a feast. Next to the kitchen, a luxurious dining table stretched out in a long line, twenty ornately carved chairs with plush cushions to match. An archway under the stairs led to a separate enclosed living room with couches, fur rugs, and shelves of glass knick-knacks for a spot of tea or intimate conversation.
The hostel was the height of snobby glamping, and although I preferred Sipho’s neck of the woods, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.
Guntram had already made tea and handed me a delicate white cup. “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip and wincing. Too bitter. I edged my way to the pantry for something to sweeten it with.
The pantry was an entire walk-in closet stuffed with food stacked almost higher than I could reach on tiptoes. Stepping toward the back six feet, the temperature dropped, better to store the preserves and sauces the forgers had made. I even spotted actual frozen meat tucked in one corner, enshrouded in ice for future use. I found both some raw honey and a berry scone someone had baked and left on a shelf. Score.
Guntram frowned as I devoured the pastry. “You sure you want to go looking like that?”
I brushed crumbs off my wrinkled hoodie. “I don’t have a spare set here like I do at Sipho’s.”
“I’m suggesting you wear more traditional shepherd attire.”
I wrinkled my nose. Even if the northern homestead had clothes I could borrow, I didn’t want to wear one of their ubiquitous gray robes. They always looked to me like they should be worshiping Cthulhu or something.
“The Oracle’s never cared about what I wore before.”
“It may carry more weight today.”
I rolled my eyes. “My clothes aren’t going to get me booted off the island.”
A new voice replied, “But your mouth might.”
Both Guntram and I turned to find a poised woman drift down the stairs. She looked almost like an old timey photo, with black robes, white hair cut in a short bob with bangs pointing toward her chin, and skin with a slightly grayish cast. She had faint wrinkles on her face, suggesting her age, but besides an old scar running down a forearm, she had radiant skin and sharp eyes.
Guntram nodded his head at the northern forger. “Elif.”
I’d seen her a few times before during stays at the northern homestead. She wasn’t like Sipho, who might shout out a greeting if she passed by you doing her chores. Not that I could imagine Elif doing chores. And I don’t think she’d ever acknowledged me with her gaze before.
Elif stared at me now. “You best be going. Young Darby left while you lay dreaming in your sleep.”
Ah, good old contempt. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. I opened my mouth to answer, but Guntram beat me to it. “We’re on our way. Good morning to you.” His tone clearly stated we’d finished the conversation.
Elif regarded him coolly, then wandered out the door.
I fumed as the door closed behind her. “Shepherds treat me like dirt all the time, but you’re an augur. You deserve better.”
“Respect doesn’t come from a title. It is either freely given or it is not worth your time. Now finish eating so we can get going.”
I swallowed the last bite of scone, wishing it were my rising anger.
Elif must have walked faster than her gaunt frame suggested because I didn’t see her anywhere when we stepped outside. Guntram and I walked side-by-side down the main path, paralleling the stream flowing away from the mountain’s hidden hot spring. We passed the library with its tinted glass windows and the imposing gymnasium, divided into three distinct areas inside: a large indoor swimming pool in one room, a circular dirt floor like a mini sumo wrestling ring for earth practice, and a room with a huge firepit underneath a chimney vent. The rooftop terrace served as the official air room, positioned perfectly to catch wind currents blowing through the valley. Someone in a gray robe was up there, practicing air sigils.
The forest eventually thinned, and the slope flattened out. Orchards and vegetable fields replaced them. A stocky, robed figure struck the earth with a hoe, beads of sweat on her thick brow. She paused to stare at us with piercing cobalt blue eyes before striking the ground again, her hoe obviously enchanted with sigils as much more dirt flew from her swing than the tool warr
anted.
Wildflowers took over the fields, gradually at first, but then at a ridiculous pace, making the meadow floor look more like a kindergartener’s coloring book. White bunches of valerian with pink trim, subalpine lupine with purple bells, and green hellebore all bloomed late for the season. They left space only for a winding dirt path that led to the outskirts of the homestead’s perimeter.
We saw the towering lone mountain hemlock before the Oracle’s house itself. You knew it had to be hers because of the sheer number of Steller’s Jays hopping from branch to branch above it. If you squinted, you could even spot the jays’ distinctive black crests crowned atop their heads.
Then the wooden longhouse itself gave the Oracle away. Much plainer than the buildings we’d left behind, it was built out of plankboards. The roof’s sides met at an asymmetrical triangle at the top, anchored to the rest of the house by rope. Large boulders flanked the base of the house every ten feet or so. There were no windows and only one large circular opening where a door should be, revealing a surprisingly bright light source shining within. You could readily imagine some ancient witch living inside, perhaps disguised as a grandmother.
Even the Big Bad Wolf himself made an appearance. Sertalis leaned casually against the wall as we trudged up a final hill to our destination.
Guntram scowled at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m interested to hear what the Oracle has to say about Darby’s petition.”
“I bet you are,” Guntram snarled. “But you have no right to be here.”
Sertalis raised an eyebrow. “And you do?”
“I was Ina’s augur, and it’s her shepherd status that’s been called into question.”
“I am also a concerned augur of the Talol Wilds. I don’t see why I can’t at least listen in on the meeting.”
Guntram opened his mouth to argue further, but a shadow passed over the light inside the door. The Oracle appeared, much shorter than the two men, but her smiling presence somehow more commanding. Her long tunic fell past her knees, hiding what I knew to be an agile frame underneath. She may have looked like a sweet old lady, but I’d seen her cast sigils in a fight that would snap me in two. Her sharp eyes pierced us from her heavily wrinkled face, the gaze of a hawk on the hunt.
“Gentlemen,” she greeted the dour augurs. “I did not expect you both this morning.”
“I was just—” Guntram began.
“We thought—” Sertalis said at the same time.
The Oracle cut them off with a swift raise of her hand. My heart quickened at the cowing of two powerful shepherds.
“I’m sure you both mean well,” she said with an air of casual cheerfulness, “but this is a private petition. Darby is already inside, and we are ready for Ina. The two of you will not be joining us.”
Sertalis stiffened in irritation, but Guntram nodded and turned to me. “I’ll wait out here for you.”
I cast a worried glance at the Oracle. “Won’t you be able to hear what’s going on inside?”
The Oracle chuckled. “The longhouse may look rickety, but the sigils hold sound well enough, I assure you. Guntram may indeed wait outside if he chooses.” She faced Sertalis. “How about you?”
Sertalis looked like he wanted to say something more pointed but chose against it. “No, I have other more important business to attend to. Good morning, Oracle.” He bowed deeply for his superior. “Guntram.” He inclined his head slightly. He did not acknowledge me at all as he flipped on his heels back down the hill.
I waited until he’d gone a few steps. “Bye, Sertalis!” I called loudly.
He froze in mid-stride, caught in a war of politeness and his own feelings about me. He grunted something, then kept walking. It was actually more than I expected of him.
Guntram rolled his eyes at my outburst, but the Oracle’s expression brightened. She gestured inside. “Won’t you come in, Ina?”
I had to duck to enter the round door, a novel sensation since I’m so short. Once inside, the Oracle drew a sigil so quick, I couldn’t make out the individual strokes. I felt a rumbling beneath my feet. A large boulder inside the hut rolled and sealed the building shut.
The interior was more spacious than it appeared from the outside. Two long rows of benches ran along the entire length of both walls. One area had blankets and pillows that clearly demarked it as the Oracle’s sleeping area. The rest were used as shelves, with more built into the walls above them holding crates, boxes, and various jars. A fire pit had been built directly into the dirt floor, a few pots scattered around it. Directly above the pit, a light shone as brightly as any bulb, giving the impression of the single room having electricity. But if you looked at the light closely enough, you could tell it was actually a white-hot flame, flickering underneath a flammable wooden ceiling with absolutely no means of visible support.
Darby was already sitting cross-legged at the far end of the pit, muscles tensed as if ready for battle. The Oracle walked over to her. “Would you like some tea?” she asked me.
“No, I’m fine.”
The Oracle took a seat a third of the distance away from Darby, then gestured for me to take the final spot. “Then, please, let’s begin.”
We made quite the trifecta: the wise old woman of the mountain, the gorgeous vengeful warrior, and me, the tired outcast who just wanted to get on with her life.
The Oracle’s face turned blank, the stoic expression of a judge. “We are gathered here to discuss a petition that comes from Darby regarding the validity of Ina’s Shepherd Trial.”
I shook my head. “This oughta be good.”
Darby narrowed her eyes at me. “Isn’t it a bit early for a childish tantrum?”
“Not if you’re here throwing one.”
“Enough.” The Oracle’s words sliced between us. My pithways vibrated, elemental flow weighing me down. By the look of shock on Darby’s face, she felt it too.
The Oracle paused to give us each a long hard look. “This will be much more pleasant if we keep bickering to a minimum. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes’m,” we said in unison.
“Good.” She smiled. My pith lightened back to normal as she continued, “Darby, as the petitioner, you should lay out your case first.”
“We…” She cleared her throat. “I mean, I have some reservations about Ina’s Shepherd Trial, specifically regarding the fox who delivered it. No one besides Ina, not even Guntram, had ever seen it before.”
My fingernails dug into my palms to keep myself from interrupting. It was a sign of disrespect to call dryants (or any animal actually) an “it.” We always referred to them as “she” or “he,” “they” if we weren’t sure. We reserved “it” for the vaetturs who invaded our world.
Darby continued. “It also only wielded lightning, not one of Nasci’s traditional elements. This struck me as odd since no other shepherd in the Talol Wilds has ever been summoned to a trial by lightning.”
Oh boy, more of this. I was going to draw blood at this rate. I flexed my fingers and folded my arms, tucking my hands underneath my armpits.
“So, I did some research. Specifically, I read several tomes both here and at Sipho’s homestead on what constitutes a Shepherd Trial. While details vary, every single source states that a Shepherd Trial must be delivered by a dryant in order to be valid.”
My heart stopped. She was not going to say what I think she was.
“Given that no one else has ever witnessed this fox creature until right before Ina was bound, and when it appeared, it could only manipulate lightning, I cast doubt on it being a dryant at all.”
Nope, she went there. Now I knew why the Oracle didn’t need the other witnesses. Darby had crafted an argument that didn’t need eyewitness testimony.
She simply discredited the validity of the fox dryant outright.
I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. “The fox dryant is real. She,” I emphasized the word to show my point, “has appeared before me several ti
mes.”
Darby gave a dismissive shrug. “How convenient.”
“Okay, then, I’ll bite.” I leaned toward her, fire pith heating up my core. “If she’s not a dryant, what do you think she is?”
“Perhaps a vaettur.”
And there it was. Time to punch some truck-sized holes into that BS logic. “Without a breach? Are you saying she’s been running around the forests of Sipho’s homestead for a month, and despite having not sealed the breach, no other creature of Letum has come out the other side?”
Darby reddened. “If not a vaettur, perhaps another construct, like the golems. You do acknowledge your part in creating those, don’t you?”
I could feel the lightning sizzling in the charm around my neck. I wanted to grab it so badly. “Rafe manipulated me.” I ground each word out. “I may have cleansed the pith, but I never created a golem. Not once.”
“So you claim.” Darby turned back to the Oracle, who still had that impassive look on her face. “This is where things always lead back with Ina. She’s special. She can manipulate an element no one else can. She doesn’t follow the rules. She’s wormed her way out of taking responsibility for…” She paused, knowing she couldn’t come right out and say I killed Tabitha. “…her actions. It’s time someone finally held her accountable like the rest of us.”
The Oracle shifted her entire body to face me. “And your response?”
I took a deep, calming breath, ignoring Darby’s glare as best I could. “I’ve proven myself to Nasci. I had visions not only in my dreams about my Shepherd Trial, but in the magma too. Tabitha was clearly there.” Darby sputtered at the mention of her former augur, but I plowed ahead. “The fox revealed herself in front of a crowd of shepherds. Everybody but Darby acknowledged her as a dryant at the time. Are we now going to claim everyone else wrong?”
Darby must have been prepared for this defense because she leaped onto it like a hungry tiger. “The Oracle should make the final call of whether the fox is a dryant or not.”
“Sure,” I said. “As if we can just summon the fox dryant whenever we want.”