Seasons, page 18
Abilard’s long, strong legs stilled, and the three of them slid off his richly caparisoned saddle. Tis took Cloudbrother’s right hand, and Sparrow held his left. Abilard led the way to where Liros and his three children waited for them.
They all embraced in turn, Liros hugging Cloudbrother first, then Sparrow. He smelled of spices and cook smoke.
“And who is this great warrior?” Liros asked, crouching down so he could meet Tis’s gaze at eye level.
“My son, Tis,” Cloudbrother said. “He is growing fast and strong now.”
“Of course,” Liros replied. “I remember you from when you were a tiny littling, my friend. Welcome! Many friends here for you to meet. These are my brood . . . Mila, Tantos, and Harmony. Are you hungry? Eat, then explore the fair. We do not dance until tonight.”
Tis was bashful, Sparrow could see, but he mastered his nerves and offered his hand for Liros to shake in greeting. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Liros is one of the greatest song healers in our clan,” Cloudbrother said. “You will see, tonight. It’s going to be great, Tis!”
Together, they followed Liros and his three children, the comely Mila and her little brother and sister, Tantos and Harmony. Abilard left them at the entrance to the tent, so that he could explore the Gathering, and they agreed to meet at dusk for the Great Dance.
Until then, it would be feasting, reconnecting, and, if Sparrow was lucky, some afternoon napping.
Sparrow squinted up at the crows before she entered the tent. She and the crows could not speak to each other; she knew that from the other times they had appeared to her. But she waved at them now, as if to say she was fine and that they knew where she was.
This seemed to satisfy them, and they whirled into the air and flew back to the forest, suddenly cawing in unison as they went. She watched them go, wondering at their visitation and appreciating the mystery of them.
And then she slipped into the tent with all the others.
* * *
• • •
Her dream of an afternoon nap came true. Liros’s heartmate, the slightly round and pacific Angheli, offered her a sleeping mat well inside the tent after their feast.
“Tis will roam with my brood,” she said. “And we can rest in the heat of the day. Long night, tonight!”
Sparrow deeply appreciated Angheli’s generosity. “You all can catch up while I take a rest.”
Angheli nodded, smiling and patting the white linen cushion. “I can get things set to right myself. You’ve had a long ride, please, rest.”
Gratefully, Sparrow sank into the cool white linens. And fell backward into a deep, soft dream.
The keeryn appeared before her, his golden and silvery whiskers quivering as they spoke together in the clouds. In this plane of being, the keeryn was huge, and his jeweled eyes sparkled with kindness and fire.
“There is fate, there is destiny, but there is also love, Sparrow,” the keeryn said. “Greater than all of these is love.”
Sparrow considered his words. “Keeryn, you speak true, but why do you remind me of this now?”
“Because, my dear friend, Cloudbrother’s destiny was to die, as a boy, long ago.”
In this place of heightened sensation, the keeryn’s words pierced Sparrow’s heart with a physical pain. “But he did not,” she whispered.
“No,” the keeryn said. “Love saved him. The love of the people who found him and healed him, and your love too, Sparrow. Never doubt the power of love.”
“Cloudbrother is in danger, then.”
“Do you doubt it? Yes, he is. We all know it, and the power of love might not save him this time. But that does not mean that the love does not exist.”
“What do I do? I can love him, but I can’t save him . . . I’m not a warrior or a Mage or even a Healer. I’m just his heartmate.”
“Without you, Urtho himself couldn’t save Cloudbrother from his fate. But love is beyond fate.”
The keeryn bowed and grinned, his curving dream-teeth much longer and stronger than those in his jade statue form. And gigantic, webbed silver and gold wings unfurled behind him, and her little keeryn shot into the sky over her dream-head, filling the sky with his green, gold, and silver presence.
He opened his mouth wide, and fire reached across the cloudy gray sky of her dream. It lit up the clouds from above, turning them from ash to a shifting, multicolored glory, like an upside-down sunset.
Sparrow struggled to wake, to flee from the intense, overwhelming beauty of the dream. She lay in her shadowy, quiet corner, heart pounding, the sweat streaming down the back of her neck.
She made a distinct, conscious decision not to worry. And the fear that had been stalking her since her conversation with Tis faded away and disappeared.
* * *
• • •
That night, the Great Dance celebrating the Midsummer Night began.
At dusk, the dancers linked their hands and began to snake through the temporary village of the Gathering. Drummers were dotted throughout the Clearing, their separate rhythms combining into a complex and intricate trance beat.
Sparrow and Cloudbrother held hands tightly, and Liros held on to Cloudbrother’s other hand while Sparrow interlaced her fingers with Angheli’s. Tis and his little cousins from the Cloudwalker clan ran free through the fading light.
Sparrow surrendered to the dance, her body connected to the long chain of people, villagers, folk from different northern clans, traders from far away, all coming together into a single connected celebration.
Far above their heads, the stars began to emerge. The clouds of earlier in the day had dissipated, so the dancers below were granted an undisturbed view of the heavens.
First one, then another, then a profusion of stars dancing in the sky as the people danced below. A song rose from the people, split off and disjointed at first, then gaining cohesion and becoming a single, breathtaking melody:
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Greet your Beloved from the Heavens!
Their song thrilled Sparrow, saturated her with happiness.
She stamped her feet in time to the rhythm of the drums and the harmony of the rising song. She loved to dance, but this dance in the night was something very different.
The whole Gathering drew together in a collective trance, a hypnotic train of consciousness. Like a keeryn, the human chain twined and twisted among the tents, the ground all but shaking under their stamping feet.
The Forest vibrated, and Sparrow sensed the consciousness of the Forest fixing on them all. She had encountered the spirit of the Forest years before, in a struggle that was one of the most terrifying of her life.
But, hidden within the human keeryn dancing in the starlight, Sparrow could face the pain of the Forest without flinching, without becoming lost in it.
She loved the Forest now, loved it as a child loves, with openness and a revealed heart. She loved it as the place where she had made her home, human habitation gathered up against the wilderness, but depending upon it too.
She reached for Abilard with her mind. She could not Mindspeak, but she sent him love and gratitude, her heartmate’s dear Companion, the one who had Chosen him for life as she had.
And Abilard responded to her search, with a soft caress inside her mind.
:No fear,: he Spoke. :Love is greater than fear.:
And as he Spoke, the truth of Abilard’s words soaked into Sparrow’s heart. The song of the dancers became a prayer of healing, and she and Cloudbrother danced the healing dance of the Midsummer Night.
Gently, almost imperceptibly, she and Cloudbrother slipped out of their bodies, and even as they kept dancing, deep in trance, they flew together above the great Midsummer Gathering, into the elemental plane above.
They danced among stars.
The Forest of Sorrows joined them.
:I’ve come to heal you,: Cloudbrother said. :Me and my brothers and sisters.:
:A dance is not enough,: the Forest insisted. :You rootless ones all dance every year. But still my pain increases.:
This time the Forest was not filled with rage or murder. But with sadness, separation, sickness. Wistfulness.
Even here, Sparrow had to speak aloud. But the effect was the same as Mindspeech, up here. Everybody could hear her fine.
“Your air and earth is ruled by pain,” she said. “But we have brought you fire and water. By these, the balance is restored.”
At this moment, the demon Zeth joined them.
This was the demon who had hunted Cloudbrother and almost killed him as a boy. It was the demon who had given the Change Adept Emptiness the power to enthrall and almost destroy Longfall. And it was the demon who had sucked the life out of the land of Iftel.
It was the demon. Tis had called him out by name.
Even now, Sparrow was free from fear. She understood now, that in the moment of the storm, fear is a luxury, an indulgence she could not afford to take.
Fear did not serve her. It was a tool of her adversary. And she was glad to let it go.
Instead, she accepted the force of the storm. And stood in the face of it.
It might well sweep her away, but fearing the possibility would not prevent it.
Tis joined them. On the plane of the elemental, the boy possessed a native power.
He and the demon stood face to face. Zeth was a creature of energy, a clot of static that ripped a hole in the place where he manifested. He looked like a man bear, a moss-covered ball of dirt, with small, cunning eyes and restlessly moving hands.
Zeth belonged to the abyssal plane, where he and his kind spawned and grew. How had he ascended to this place?
“Go home,” Tis said. “You don’t belong here. You can only harm yourself here.”
Zeth laughed. It sounded like a snarl, coming from his long, bearlike snout. “I could harm you. I could suck your life force out of your marrow and grow even more powerful.”
Sparrow wasn’t afraid, but she took a sharp breath in. Here, Tis was more powerful than her, but it was still hard to let him go, to fight.
Tis didn’t answer the demon. His keeryn joined them then.
On this plane, the keeryn loomed even larger than in Sparrow’s dream. He came across the plain of stars, and his eyes shone like stars; he was as huge as Haven.
“Zeth,” the keeryn breathed. “Go back where you came from.”
Zeth growled, snuffled. And with every bellows-like breath he took, he grew.
He grew to the size of the keeryn. And the two giants began to wrestle in the sky. They twined together, writhed like a single frenzied being. Danced their own heavenly Midsummer Dance.
The air of the demon fed the fire in the keeryn, and the earth of the demon drank the water of the keeryn. Their energies evenly matched, there was no way for the battle to be won by one side or another.
The heavens rang with their war, and Cloudbrother gathered Sparrow and Tis close to him. They combined their energy, and Sparrow sensed the raw power of her heartmate and her son, surrounding and protecting her.
From far below, the song of the dancers in the Gathering rose. And the crows broke through the clouds at their feet, circling the fighters.
They landed on Zeth’s shoulders and back and skull, and they called and pecked at him. One of the crows broke away from the melee, swooped to where the three of them stood.
He hovered in the air, his flight more like a hummingbird’s than a crow’s.
He nodded at Cloudbrother. “Sire,” he said, his voice clear and soft. “You will have to intervene.”
Cloudbrother sighed.
“Such is the way of a Herald,” he said, his voice soft and sad. “I’ve owed the debt since I was five. It’s high time I paid it, Crow. Thank you.”
And he kissed the top of Sparrow’s head.
And walked away.
Sparrow watched him go, and even now, even at this moment she had feared from the time that he had first disappeared, she was free from fear.
Because Cloudbrother walked in love, not fear.
He walked across the carpet of clouds, his hands open and outstretched. His Gift was flight, not spells. But here, Cloudbrother had the power to command.
“I send you to your home, in peace,” he said. “Zeth, farewell. Thank you for the Gifts you had bestowed on me, no matter your intentions.”
Without her heartmate to hold her in the elemental plane, Sparrow knew she did not have the Gift to stay. She held on to Tis, told him, “Be careful up here! If the keeryn tells you to get out, well, then . . .”
Before she could get the rest of her sentence out, Sparrow tumbled back to earth, to her own body.
She knew the matter was already finished.
* * *
• • •
Sparrow woke to the gentle song of bells.
Abilard stood over her. :You fainted, but somebody always does during the Midsummer Dance,: he Spoke. :It is dawn. The dance is ended.:
“Is Cloudbrother . . . gone?” she asked. The effort of speaking sent a wave of pain shooting through her body.
:No: Abilard said, but his voice, usually filled with a reassuring warmth, was full of concern for his Chosen. :He is down from the clouds now. I fear, forever. Please, comfort him. He has done a great deed, this day:
A surge of hope rose in her, and Sparrow struggled to rise. “Take me to him.”
She stood unsteadily on her feet, threw her arm over Abilard’s mighty flanks. Gently, he nuzzled her shoulder, and his soft, sweet breath brought her back to her senses.
Dawn had just come, barely displacing the dark of night. The dancers had dispersed, to their tents, to break their fast with honey cakes and morning mead.
Abilard took her to Liros’ tent. Cloudbrother was there, thank the Mother, and so was Tis.
Tis was in tears. “My little keeryn,” he said. “It broke. I’m sorry, Mama, it’s my fault.”
Tis was a great Mage in potential, but at heart he was still a little boy. He held the broken shards of jade in his hands, crying for the life force Urtho had breathed into the little figure, the life force that had gone away now.
Sparrow gathered Tis in her arms, hugged him close, stroked his straight, jet black hair until his sobs slowed. “He’s in the clouds now, watching over the Forest,” she said. “It’s all going to be fine.”
Cloudbrother rested on the same sleeping mat where Sparrow had slept. He was alive, breathing easily. A part of Sparrow couldn’t believe it.
“How are you still alive?” she asked, blurted really.
“It was the keeryn’s sacrifice,” he said. “His life restored the balance to the Forest. He and the demon are gone to the abyssal plane. And I . . .”
Sparrow waited for him to finish, held her breath in anticipation.
“I think my Gift is ended,” he said. “It was called out by the demon, I think. Without the threat of the demon, the clouds will not call me anymore. Heralds don’t really retire, but they can get new postings when their missions are done. I think I’m going to be that kind of Herald.”
Sparrow swallowed hard.
Then smiled, in gratitude.
“There are a lot worse fates than that, my heart,” she said. “We will be fine. Plenty of life to live, right here on the ground. If you were to ask Roark, this is where all the best stuff happens anyway.”
Cloudbrother sighed, relaxed back down onto the mat. “Roark is right. But part of me was made for the storm. And now the storm in the Forest is past.”
:No fear, Chosen one. Every storm must have its end. We will go to Haven, your victory will be celebrated,: Abilard said. :And we will present Tis to the Council. It is time for him to receive his training. Soon he, too, will be Chosen.:
Preparing for the Worst
Brigid Collins
It was times like this, when he was standing in the breakfast chamber of the lady of the hold and hoping to change her mind, that Dreyvin truly wished he still had his right arm. Holding his left hand respectfully behind his back became that much harder without its right counterpart to clasp.
“Lady Areshinn, I don’t think we ought to send every fighting man in our hold out on the Sovvan hunt. The Treehill gang is going to see it as an open invitation to attack.”
Lady Areshinn smiled and waved at the second chair beside her breakfast table. “Sit, Dreyvin. You know very well I won’t have you stand in my presence. Have you had any more letters from Simen lately?”
Dreyvin clamped his teeth against the inside of his cheeks, awkward as always with his Lady’s mothering affection toward him since she became aware of the relationship between her son and himself, but he complied with her request. His leather jerkin creaked with the stiff motion. “Simen is an avid correspondent. He sends his love, along with the latest piece he wrote for his coursework. I think it’s a Sovvan Feast ballad, but I’m not the expert on these things.”
“Well, give it to Temara, and she’ll let us know if it’s fit to sing at our feast tonight. The men will enjoy hearing something new after we hunt.”
Dreyvin dug his fingers into his knee under the table. “My lady, please consider leaving at least a small contingent behind to protect the women and children.”
Lady Areshinn’s smile remained in place, but the hardness in her eyes brooked no argument. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s no reason for it. The Treehills are going to be licking their wounds from last week’s scuffle for some time. They didn’t even manage to carry off a single bushel of grain from our shipment to Haven.”
Her voice rang with pride, and Dreyvin couldn’t help feeling an echo of it in his own chest. He’d been drilling some of the younger fighting men in defensive tactics for months now, ever since he recovered enough from the loss of his arm to make himself useful. Their victory defending the shipment last week was his victory, too, despite him not having been there.
They all embraced in turn, Liros hugging Cloudbrother first, then Sparrow. He smelled of spices and cook smoke.
“And who is this great warrior?” Liros asked, crouching down so he could meet Tis’s gaze at eye level.
“My son, Tis,” Cloudbrother said. “He is growing fast and strong now.”
“Of course,” Liros replied. “I remember you from when you were a tiny littling, my friend. Welcome! Many friends here for you to meet. These are my brood . . . Mila, Tantos, and Harmony. Are you hungry? Eat, then explore the fair. We do not dance until tonight.”
Tis was bashful, Sparrow could see, but he mastered his nerves and offered his hand for Liros to shake in greeting. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Liros is one of the greatest song healers in our clan,” Cloudbrother said. “You will see, tonight. It’s going to be great, Tis!”
Together, they followed Liros and his three children, the comely Mila and her little brother and sister, Tantos and Harmony. Abilard left them at the entrance to the tent, so that he could explore the Gathering, and they agreed to meet at dusk for the Great Dance.
Until then, it would be feasting, reconnecting, and, if Sparrow was lucky, some afternoon napping.
Sparrow squinted up at the crows before she entered the tent. She and the crows could not speak to each other; she knew that from the other times they had appeared to her. But she waved at them now, as if to say she was fine and that they knew where she was.
This seemed to satisfy them, and they whirled into the air and flew back to the forest, suddenly cawing in unison as they went. She watched them go, wondering at their visitation and appreciating the mystery of them.
And then she slipped into the tent with all the others.
* * *
• • •
Her dream of an afternoon nap came true. Liros’s heartmate, the slightly round and pacific Angheli, offered her a sleeping mat well inside the tent after their feast.
“Tis will roam with my brood,” she said. “And we can rest in the heat of the day. Long night, tonight!”
Sparrow deeply appreciated Angheli’s generosity. “You all can catch up while I take a rest.”
Angheli nodded, smiling and patting the white linen cushion. “I can get things set to right myself. You’ve had a long ride, please, rest.”
Gratefully, Sparrow sank into the cool white linens. And fell backward into a deep, soft dream.
The keeryn appeared before her, his golden and silvery whiskers quivering as they spoke together in the clouds. In this plane of being, the keeryn was huge, and his jeweled eyes sparkled with kindness and fire.
“There is fate, there is destiny, but there is also love, Sparrow,” the keeryn said. “Greater than all of these is love.”
Sparrow considered his words. “Keeryn, you speak true, but why do you remind me of this now?”
“Because, my dear friend, Cloudbrother’s destiny was to die, as a boy, long ago.”
In this place of heightened sensation, the keeryn’s words pierced Sparrow’s heart with a physical pain. “But he did not,” she whispered.
“No,” the keeryn said. “Love saved him. The love of the people who found him and healed him, and your love too, Sparrow. Never doubt the power of love.”
“Cloudbrother is in danger, then.”
“Do you doubt it? Yes, he is. We all know it, and the power of love might not save him this time. But that does not mean that the love does not exist.”
“What do I do? I can love him, but I can’t save him . . . I’m not a warrior or a Mage or even a Healer. I’m just his heartmate.”
“Without you, Urtho himself couldn’t save Cloudbrother from his fate. But love is beyond fate.”
The keeryn bowed and grinned, his curving dream-teeth much longer and stronger than those in his jade statue form. And gigantic, webbed silver and gold wings unfurled behind him, and her little keeryn shot into the sky over her dream-head, filling the sky with his green, gold, and silver presence.
He opened his mouth wide, and fire reached across the cloudy gray sky of her dream. It lit up the clouds from above, turning them from ash to a shifting, multicolored glory, like an upside-down sunset.
Sparrow struggled to wake, to flee from the intense, overwhelming beauty of the dream. She lay in her shadowy, quiet corner, heart pounding, the sweat streaming down the back of her neck.
She made a distinct, conscious decision not to worry. And the fear that had been stalking her since her conversation with Tis faded away and disappeared.
* * *
• • •
That night, the Great Dance celebrating the Midsummer Night began.
At dusk, the dancers linked their hands and began to snake through the temporary village of the Gathering. Drummers were dotted throughout the Clearing, their separate rhythms combining into a complex and intricate trance beat.
Sparrow and Cloudbrother held hands tightly, and Liros held on to Cloudbrother’s other hand while Sparrow interlaced her fingers with Angheli’s. Tis and his little cousins from the Cloudwalker clan ran free through the fading light.
Sparrow surrendered to the dance, her body connected to the long chain of people, villagers, folk from different northern clans, traders from far away, all coming together into a single connected celebration.
Far above their heads, the stars began to emerge. The clouds of earlier in the day had dissipated, so the dancers below were granted an undisturbed view of the heavens.
First one, then another, then a profusion of stars dancing in the sky as the people danced below. A song rose from the people, split off and disjointed at first, then gaining cohesion and becoming a single, breathtaking melody:
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Greet your Beloved from the Heavens!
Their song thrilled Sparrow, saturated her with happiness.
She stamped her feet in time to the rhythm of the drums and the harmony of the rising song. She loved to dance, but this dance in the night was something very different.
The whole Gathering drew together in a collective trance, a hypnotic train of consciousness. Like a keeryn, the human chain twined and twisted among the tents, the ground all but shaking under their stamping feet.
The Forest vibrated, and Sparrow sensed the consciousness of the Forest fixing on them all. She had encountered the spirit of the Forest years before, in a struggle that was one of the most terrifying of her life.
But, hidden within the human keeryn dancing in the starlight, Sparrow could face the pain of the Forest without flinching, without becoming lost in it.
She loved the Forest now, loved it as a child loves, with openness and a revealed heart. She loved it as the place where she had made her home, human habitation gathered up against the wilderness, but depending upon it too.
She reached for Abilard with her mind. She could not Mindspeak, but she sent him love and gratitude, her heartmate’s dear Companion, the one who had Chosen him for life as she had.
And Abilard responded to her search, with a soft caress inside her mind.
:No fear,: he Spoke. :Love is greater than fear.:
And as he Spoke, the truth of Abilard’s words soaked into Sparrow’s heart. The song of the dancers became a prayer of healing, and she and Cloudbrother danced the healing dance of the Midsummer Night.
Gently, almost imperceptibly, she and Cloudbrother slipped out of their bodies, and even as they kept dancing, deep in trance, they flew together above the great Midsummer Gathering, into the elemental plane above.
They danced among stars.
The Forest of Sorrows joined them.
:I’ve come to heal you,: Cloudbrother said. :Me and my brothers and sisters.:
:A dance is not enough,: the Forest insisted. :You rootless ones all dance every year. But still my pain increases.:
This time the Forest was not filled with rage or murder. But with sadness, separation, sickness. Wistfulness.
Even here, Sparrow had to speak aloud. But the effect was the same as Mindspeech, up here. Everybody could hear her fine.
“Your air and earth is ruled by pain,” she said. “But we have brought you fire and water. By these, the balance is restored.”
At this moment, the demon Zeth joined them.
This was the demon who had hunted Cloudbrother and almost killed him as a boy. It was the demon who had given the Change Adept Emptiness the power to enthrall and almost destroy Longfall. And it was the demon who had sucked the life out of the land of Iftel.
It was the demon. Tis had called him out by name.
Even now, Sparrow was free from fear. She understood now, that in the moment of the storm, fear is a luxury, an indulgence she could not afford to take.
Fear did not serve her. It was a tool of her adversary. And she was glad to let it go.
Instead, she accepted the force of the storm. And stood in the face of it.
It might well sweep her away, but fearing the possibility would not prevent it.
Tis joined them. On the plane of the elemental, the boy possessed a native power.
He and the demon stood face to face. Zeth was a creature of energy, a clot of static that ripped a hole in the place where he manifested. He looked like a man bear, a moss-covered ball of dirt, with small, cunning eyes and restlessly moving hands.
Zeth belonged to the abyssal plane, where he and his kind spawned and grew. How had he ascended to this place?
“Go home,” Tis said. “You don’t belong here. You can only harm yourself here.”
Zeth laughed. It sounded like a snarl, coming from his long, bearlike snout. “I could harm you. I could suck your life force out of your marrow and grow even more powerful.”
Sparrow wasn’t afraid, but she took a sharp breath in. Here, Tis was more powerful than her, but it was still hard to let him go, to fight.
Tis didn’t answer the demon. His keeryn joined them then.
On this plane, the keeryn loomed even larger than in Sparrow’s dream. He came across the plain of stars, and his eyes shone like stars; he was as huge as Haven.
“Zeth,” the keeryn breathed. “Go back where you came from.”
Zeth growled, snuffled. And with every bellows-like breath he took, he grew.
He grew to the size of the keeryn. And the two giants began to wrestle in the sky. They twined together, writhed like a single frenzied being. Danced their own heavenly Midsummer Dance.
The air of the demon fed the fire in the keeryn, and the earth of the demon drank the water of the keeryn. Their energies evenly matched, there was no way for the battle to be won by one side or another.
The heavens rang with their war, and Cloudbrother gathered Sparrow and Tis close to him. They combined their energy, and Sparrow sensed the raw power of her heartmate and her son, surrounding and protecting her.
From far below, the song of the dancers in the Gathering rose. And the crows broke through the clouds at their feet, circling the fighters.
They landed on Zeth’s shoulders and back and skull, and they called and pecked at him. One of the crows broke away from the melee, swooped to where the three of them stood.
He hovered in the air, his flight more like a hummingbird’s than a crow’s.
He nodded at Cloudbrother. “Sire,” he said, his voice clear and soft. “You will have to intervene.”
Cloudbrother sighed.
“Such is the way of a Herald,” he said, his voice soft and sad. “I’ve owed the debt since I was five. It’s high time I paid it, Crow. Thank you.”
And he kissed the top of Sparrow’s head.
And walked away.
Sparrow watched him go, and even now, even at this moment she had feared from the time that he had first disappeared, she was free from fear.
Because Cloudbrother walked in love, not fear.
He walked across the carpet of clouds, his hands open and outstretched. His Gift was flight, not spells. But here, Cloudbrother had the power to command.
“I send you to your home, in peace,” he said. “Zeth, farewell. Thank you for the Gifts you had bestowed on me, no matter your intentions.”
Without her heartmate to hold her in the elemental plane, Sparrow knew she did not have the Gift to stay. She held on to Tis, told him, “Be careful up here! If the keeryn tells you to get out, well, then . . .”
Before she could get the rest of her sentence out, Sparrow tumbled back to earth, to her own body.
She knew the matter was already finished.
* * *
• • •
Sparrow woke to the gentle song of bells.
Abilard stood over her. :You fainted, but somebody always does during the Midsummer Dance,: he Spoke. :It is dawn. The dance is ended.:
“Is Cloudbrother . . . gone?” she asked. The effort of speaking sent a wave of pain shooting through her body.
:No: Abilard said, but his voice, usually filled with a reassuring warmth, was full of concern for his Chosen. :He is down from the clouds now. I fear, forever. Please, comfort him. He has done a great deed, this day:
A surge of hope rose in her, and Sparrow struggled to rise. “Take me to him.”
She stood unsteadily on her feet, threw her arm over Abilard’s mighty flanks. Gently, he nuzzled her shoulder, and his soft, sweet breath brought her back to her senses.
Dawn had just come, barely displacing the dark of night. The dancers had dispersed, to their tents, to break their fast with honey cakes and morning mead.
Abilard took her to Liros’ tent. Cloudbrother was there, thank the Mother, and so was Tis.
Tis was in tears. “My little keeryn,” he said. “It broke. I’m sorry, Mama, it’s my fault.”
Tis was a great Mage in potential, but at heart he was still a little boy. He held the broken shards of jade in his hands, crying for the life force Urtho had breathed into the little figure, the life force that had gone away now.
Sparrow gathered Tis in her arms, hugged him close, stroked his straight, jet black hair until his sobs slowed. “He’s in the clouds now, watching over the Forest,” she said. “It’s all going to be fine.”
Cloudbrother rested on the same sleeping mat where Sparrow had slept. He was alive, breathing easily. A part of Sparrow couldn’t believe it.
“How are you still alive?” she asked, blurted really.
“It was the keeryn’s sacrifice,” he said. “His life restored the balance to the Forest. He and the demon are gone to the abyssal plane. And I . . .”
Sparrow waited for him to finish, held her breath in anticipation.
“I think my Gift is ended,” he said. “It was called out by the demon, I think. Without the threat of the demon, the clouds will not call me anymore. Heralds don’t really retire, but they can get new postings when their missions are done. I think I’m going to be that kind of Herald.”
Sparrow swallowed hard.
Then smiled, in gratitude.
“There are a lot worse fates than that, my heart,” she said. “We will be fine. Plenty of life to live, right here on the ground. If you were to ask Roark, this is where all the best stuff happens anyway.”
Cloudbrother sighed, relaxed back down onto the mat. “Roark is right. But part of me was made for the storm. And now the storm in the Forest is past.”
:No fear, Chosen one. Every storm must have its end. We will go to Haven, your victory will be celebrated,: Abilard said. :And we will present Tis to the Council. It is time for him to receive his training. Soon he, too, will be Chosen.:
Preparing for the Worst
Brigid Collins
It was times like this, when he was standing in the breakfast chamber of the lady of the hold and hoping to change her mind, that Dreyvin truly wished he still had his right arm. Holding his left hand respectfully behind his back became that much harder without its right counterpart to clasp.
“Lady Areshinn, I don’t think we ought to send every fighting man in our hold out on the Sovvan hunt. The Treehill gang is going to see it as an open invitation to attack.”
Lady Areshinn smiled and waved at the second chair beside her breakfast table. “Sit, Dreyvin. You know very well I won’t have you stand in my presence. Have you had any more letters from Simen lately?”
Dreyvin clamped his teeth against the inside of his cheeks, awkward as always with his Lady’s mothering affection toward him since she became aware of the relationship between her son and himself, but he complied with her request. His leather jerkin creaked with the stiff motion. “Simen is an avid correspondent. He sends his love, along with the latest piece he wrote for his coursework. I think it’s a Sovvan Feast ballad, but I’m not the expert on these things.”
“Well, give it to Temara, and she’ll let us know if it’s fit to sing at our feast tonight. The men will enjoy hearing something new after we hunt.”
Dreyvin dug his fingers into his knee under the table. “My lady, please consider leaving at least a small contingent behind to protect the women and children.”
Lady Areshinn’s smile remained in place, but the hardness in her eyes brooked no argument. “I appreciate your concern, but there’s no reason for it. The Treehills are going to be licking their wounds from last week’s scuffle for some time. They didn’t even manage to carry off a single bushel of grain from our shipment to Haven.”
Her voice rang with pride, and Dreyvin couldn’t help feeling an echo of it in his own chest. He’d been drilling some of the younger fighting men in defensive tactics for months now, ever since he recovered enough from the loss of his arm to make himself useful. Their victory defending the shipment last week was his victory, too, despite him not having been there.
