Seasons, page 17
Tis was a creature forever in motion. He had lost his baby chubbiness, and now, wiry and dark, he busied himself about the ekele like a never-resting, darting shadow.
But Tis was wise beyond his years . . . as if there were an invisible sage walking behind him, whispering disquieting truths in his ear. Deep down, Sparrow knew with rock-solid certainty that her boy would soon be Chosen, just as her husband had been.
This was the world’s way.
And, while she was deeply proud of both heartmate and son, sometimes Sparrow felt a little wistful that their talents would sometimes take them away from her.
Suddenly, as if conjured, Tis materialized in the front doorway, interrupting her thoughts, balancing on the threshold on the tips of his toes. In his outstretched hands, a small, jade keeryn climbed and danced, its wide golden jaws open in a toothy smile.
He squinted down at the little scaled thing, his face a study in fierce concentration. “Urtho, the Silent Mage, was the father of this keeryn.”
That was an interesting way to put things, to say the least.
Sparrow set the copper bowl down on the old, patched blanket where she was sitting. She massaged her aching fingers as she looked up to focus on the boy and his keeryn.
If Tis had named it, he had never told his mother. A part of her didn’t want to know, didn’t want to intrude on his inner world. But the secret of the keeryn from Iftel weighed on Sparrow’s mind.
Almost five years ago, Sparrow and Cloudbrother had traveled on a Herald’s mission to the remote, closed land of Iftel in search of an antidote to the drought that raged there. In return for Cloudbrother calling the rain back into the land, the grateful ruler of Iftel had bestowed the gift of this little enchanted keeryn.
Sparrow and Cloudbrother had hoped the little keeryn, creature of fire and water, could provide the secret to healing their own corner of Velgarth: the Forest of Sorrows, dangerously imbalanced once again and suffering, in need of healing.
So far, that hope had remained unfulfilled. Cloudbrother had taken the little keeryn to the Council at Haven and offered it to the Crown as a possible antidote for the troubles in the north, but the Council in its collective wisdom insisted that the keeryn was the Herald’s, that he and his family were the rightful caretakers of the gift.
They were instructed to transport the gift right back home to the north, to the country of the Forest of Sorrows. And so they had obeyed, and they stayed in their home in the Vale, knowing that a day of reckoning would come, someday.
Deep down, Sparrow knew the Gathering was the place, the time. The battle was going to be joined, for once and for all.
The shining silver claws of the jade keeryn scratched faintly against Tis’s skinny, outstretched forearm. It scampered up the length of his arm and nestled in the hollow of his collarbone.
Despite her deep and unremitting worry, Sparrow couldn’t keep from smiling. Such beauties in the world!
“Yes, indeed, Urtho’s green jade child,” she said. “Agreed, our little keeryn is a most amazing and generous gift. Do be careful with it. Keep it safe.”
Tis met her gaze, and, as usual, his intensity half amazed Sparrow—and secretly half frightened her. How could such a small, compact body contain so much fire?
How could he know the dangers they faced now?
“I want to bring him to the Gathering, Mama.” He paused. “Please.”
She kept her gaze level, even as her heart started pounding, hard. “Why?”
His expression didn’t change, but his lips began to tremble.
“Because,” he said, his voice tentative. Suddenly, he sounded exactly like the little boy he still was. “I know it is a jewel. I know it is a treasure we need to keep hidden. But . . . I just have a feeling.”
Sparrow nodded slowly, swallowing the big lump that had formed in her throat. Tis was just a boy, but he knew, as well as she did, they were all soon walking into a crucible.
“Me too,” she said. “Keep him hidden, but bring him.” Sparrow hesitated, then decided to say what she was thinking. “I think we might need him.”
* * *
• • •
The following morning, the day dawned hot and dry, and they prepared to leave for the Gathering.
Cloudbrother, dressed in white trews and tunic, embroidered with the intricate and brightly colored patterns of his clan, sat astride Abilard, his Companion, tall and slim on his mount. His eyes were closed, sealed shut by a near-fatal childhood fever, but otherwise he looked so agile and gallant on his mount, like a Shin’a’in warrior.
Sparrow stood in the doorway, watching her heartmate and his Companion whirl in the clearing outside the ekele, unified in motion. A light breeze blew, and a white and pink cascade of blossoms rained down on them like aromatic, fluffy snow.
“Handsome devil, your fine heartmate,” Roark said from behind her.
Roark always made Sparrow smile. She kept watching Cloudbrother and Abilard as she replied, “He’s my handsome devil, all right.”
She turned then to take in the sight of Roark, half-hidden by the cool shadows in the back of her home.
The fact that her best friend in the world was a bossy hertasi usually didn’t give Sparrow any pause. But this morning, perhaps because they were riding once again, away from her daily, everyday mundane life, the sweet absurdity of their friendship brought tears to her eyes.
“Sure you don’t want to join us?” she asked, her voice light and teasing, her heart absolutely serious. Because, deep down, Sparrow was terrified she was never coming back.
Roark laughed, a deep throaty croak of a laugh. His amber eyes shone, and his dewlap stretched out, revealing the rainbow iridescent scales so often tucked away while he worked. “No Gatherings for me, dear little bird. I am made for the hearth, for the tidy hole, for the quiet and warmth. You go fly away, into the bright sky. You will come back to me.”
Sparrow caught Roark’s gaze, which did not waver as they looked at each other for a long, lingering minute.
She swallowed hard. “You sure? You sure I will come back?”
“My darling, I promise you. You will return to me, and we will have tea and scones in the gardens, and we will listen to the bondbirds singing. Until then, celebrate. And remember, love is bigger than the world.”
He blinked his eyes then, slowly, his lower eyelids closing up over his enormous amber irises. Roark opened his eyes again, bowed to Sparrow with a flourish, and withdrew into the shadows of the cool storeroom in the back of the ekele.
She and Roark had an unspoken rule—never say goodbye. Roark had not broken their pact, but he had come pretty close.
With a great effort, Sparrow turned her attention away from the ekele and back to where Cloudbrother sat tall astride Abilard, waiting for her to emerge.
And Tis sat in front of her heartmate now, dark and quick and tense, his fingers buried deep in Abilard’s glorious, silver-white mane. His face, still and intense as always, was tilted up toward the sky, taking in the sun like a turning sunflower.
“Mama,” he said, his imperious voice brooking no more delay. “We’ve been waiting for you. I’m . . . All. Packed. Up.”
And he looked down then, wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully at her, his expression so deadly serious that she had to restrain a nervous laugh.
“It will be so wonderful to see our family once again,” she replied to him, and to Cloudbrother, too. “It’s been a long time since we simply celebrated the season.”
Abilard drew near, his silvery hooves flashing in the loamy dirt, and Cloudbrother reached his long, strong arm down to her.
“Let’s ride, my love,” he said, his voice easy, warm, and free from fear. “It’s going to be fun.”
And then he whispered into her soul, his Mindspeech a gentle caress. :Don’t be afraid,: he said. :What will be, will be.:
And her beloved’s courage sent strength and peace flowing through Sparrow’s own body. If he could be brave, then she could follow his lead.
She clambered up onto the craggy rock near the front entrance of their ekele, the one she used as a mounting block, and Cloudbrother pulled her up to sit behind him. She snuggled up close to his back, Tis no longer sheltered between them, but riding in the vanguard, up front.
But all of them knew, outside of the protection of the Vale, the Forest would be looking for them. And they would have to face the malevolence that had sickened the Forest and almost claimed Cloudbrother’s life, time after time.
* * *
• • •
The Summer Gathering had already begun in the Great Clearing located between Longfall and the K’Valdemar Vale. Midsummer was still a couple of days away, so the zenith of the festival was still building. Tis was beyond excited for the festival, as it was the first one he would attend.
The Forest of Sorrows hummed with life. Outside of the Vale’s protection, the forest was sticky and humid instead of hot and dry, and clouds of gnats, thorny thickets, and boggy patches impeded their progress.
Abilard forged ahead, his wise, far-seeing eyes picking out the safest pathway through the damp, spongy forest floor. And as they rode, the four of them considered the problem they were riding into.
Long ago, when Cloudbrother was a five-year-old Longfall boy named Brock, a wraith had enticed him into the forest, and he was sickened with a strange and deadly malady. He was discovered by the Cloudwalker clan, who had saved his life but at the cost of the life of Silver Cloud, one of the clan elders and a wise Adept.
Sparrow hugged her heartmate closer as Abilard broke into a canter. She had met Cloudbrother’s clan before, and they had always welcomed her with open arms. But Sparrow, deep down, always felt a little awkward in their presence. They all knew that Cloudbrother still owed his clan a life-debt.
Even his name was a reminder of what it had cost to save him. Thanks to the intervention of his clan, Brock had survived, but he had lost his sight. Instead, he had gained the ability to fly high above the ordinary plane of existence, into the elemental realms where spirits and energy fields reigned. His clan had renamed him Cloudbrother, since he lived in the clouds more than on the plane of the living.
All of this changed when Abilard had Chosen him and brought him to Sparrow for the healing only she could bring to him. Sparrow, who had no Gift, could still bring Cloudbrother back to earth, just as he could lift her spirit into the realm of the clouds. Together, they could range from the upper vault of the heavens all the way to ground.
They had fought the Forest, and the malevolence that had sickened it, to a draw. In the course of this struggle, Cloudbrother had grown from a sickly and blind Trainee to a powerful Herald, one renowned in the far-off land of Iftel as Cloud Born, the Herald who had called the rain down upon a drought-stricken land.
Now it was time for Cloudbrother to heal his native country. And finally free himself from the debt he owed both his clan and the Forest itself.
But he could not do it alone.
:Our adversary has claimed air and earth,: Abilard Mindspoke. :To heal the forest, we must bring fire and water.:
His words sent a healing peace through Sparrow’s body, as always. And despite the dangers hunting them, in Abilard’s company, as always, she knew they could all depend on the Companion’s strength, his love for them all.
Could a Companion Choose a whole family?
Sometimes, Sparrow liked to think it was so. Cloudbrother’s Companion, Abilard, had Chosen him before he and Sparrow had become lifebonded, but from the moment Sparrow had encountered Abilard and Cloudbrother in the Forest of Sorrows, the Companion had treated her with immense gentleness and welcome.
And, to her forever gratitude, despite the lack of a Gift of her own, Abilard could Mindspeak into all of their minds. So he was able to fully communicate with all of them, Thistle, Cloudbrother, and Sparrow herself.
Now they rode to the Summer Gathering as one family.
:I brought the keeryn,: Tis said, his voice strong and steady. :He will help us, he is both fire and water.:
Sparrow could not reply in Mindspeech, and she didn’t want to speak of the keeryn aloud . . . it seemed as though the Forest itself was listening to their passage through the trees. The dark dappled shadows under the trees vibrated with an uncanny energy.
The Forest was hungry. But for now it waited before it pounced.
Cloudbrother replied, speaking the words that echoed in Sparrow’s own thoughts. :The keeryn may be the key, the Council said. But I’m not sure how he can help us. Do you know, Tis?:
Sparrow could sense her son’s frustration as a tension between her shoulder blades, even more than through his words. :It is a puzzle, Papa . . . I don’t have the training to solve it. But don’t you know? Don’t Heralds know everything?:
Cloudbrother laughed out loud at that, his easy, ordinary laugh, the one that Sparrow loved the best. :Don’t I wish! But, no. This is Urtho’s mystery. The Council didn’t know what to do either, so it’s not just me. This is untrodden ground, Tis. Let’s explore it together. Maybe my brothers the Walkers will have an idea.:
Sparrow nestled closer along Cloudbrother’s back. “I hope the whole clan is there,” she said. “I know they can’t all make it. But we’ve only been back to visit up north the one time. Sometimes . . . do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you had never left them at all?”
Her heartmate didn’t hesitate. “My life up there would have been pretty short, Sparrow. I was pretty sick. You’re the one who kept me from floating into the clouds forever.”
She rested her cheek against his strong, slim back, her sun hat slipping off the back of her head and resting by its strap across the back of her shoulders. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “What would I do without you?”
The Forest rose up all around them as Abilard cantered along, the firs and oaks surrounding them all alive and dark and scary and beautiful. The Forest of Sorrows was full of secrets and magic, and while Sparrow, a daughter of the northern reaches, always maintained a healthy respect for the dangers, she had always loved the Forest, too.
From far away, hidden in the trees, rose the faint sound of singing.
The Gathering.
Sparrow peeked out from behind Cloudbrother’s shoulder, and that’s when she saw them. Didn’t hear them, because despite their multitude they never made a sound.
Over their heads, darting from branch to branch, an enormous murder of crows.
An honor guard? Or messengers of danger?
* * *
• • •
Within a candlemark, the little procession, family on the ground, great flock of crows in the sky, reached the Great Clearing where the Gathering was taking place. A huge, rolling meadow, surrounded on all sides by craggy forest and protruding boulders and stones like prehistoric keeryns’ teeth. The fairgrounds were dotted with dozens of round white tents, some for visiting clans, some for merchants selling spices, dyes, fabrics, and regional culinary delights.
It was not an ancient site. Once a small meadow, the Clearing had only been expanded once trading between the northern clans and the isolated northern villages, like Longfall, became steady and significant every year. The Midsummer Gathering outside Longfall had grown from a simple summer festival, to a trading fair, to the full-blown celebration of life that the Gathering had become.
Now the Clearing had come to life, with tents, horses, clan members, and local villagers all celebrating the fullness of summer in northern Valdemar. A great roar of music, singing, chanting, and chatter filled the air, echoing among the trees.
Longfall kites swooped through the humid air, their long, rainbow-colored tails a striking contrast to the dull, bluish gray homespun the northern villagers wore, down on the ground. Sparrow’s heart leaped up at the sight of them. They reminded her of the Longfall kite festivals of her childhood.
As Abilard drew closer to the Gathering, Sparrow scanned the clustered white tents, looking for the Cloudwalker clan. Before she could find them, Abilard’s pace quickened.
“There’s Liros,” Cloudbrother said. “Do you see him? I sense him. He is with his children, way at the end.”
Abilard whinnied and broke into a gallop. Sparrow couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
Liros was Cloudbrother’s closest friend, a singer and Adept who often met Sparrow’s heartmate on the elemental plane. Sparrow hadn’t seen him since Thistle was a tiny baby.
He stretched to his full height, his jet-black hair long and straight to the waist, hair flecked with silver now. Liros’ trews were embroidered with fantastical, intricate designs of twining vines, birds of paradise, and smiling hertasi.
Here, in the midst of this multitude, it was hard for Sparrow to maintain her fear and sense of high alert. Instead, she relaxed in this sea of teeming humanity and realized that if danger struck, she was connected and protected by a clan that had claimed her little family for its own.
Liros saw them and raised his arm in greeting.
Abilard drew close, and his silver hooves danced as they arrived outside Liros’ tent.
“Welcome!” Liros called to them. “Welcome, brother Cloudwalker. How you walk in beauty! Come in with your family, we have a great midday meal afoot, inside, out of the heat of the day.”
And then he saw the crows, and he paused. At least fifty of them, flying in a lazy, swirling column over their heads, as if they feared to alight on the open ground.
Liros bowed to the birds swooping in flight. “And welcome, messengers of the sky. You have come once again to escort my sister. You bring tidings.”
