:I'm too old for this.: Savil shifted in Kellan's saddle, trying to find some position that didn't make the ache in her hips worse. She didn't find one, which was no surprise. It wasn't Kellan's fault either – she might be as old as Savil, but she still had the smooth gait of a Companion. No, this discomfort was all her. :This cold goes straight to my bones. Why did I ever agree to this?:
:You didn't. You volunteered. And you know why you did.:
Savil sighed. :I'm getting as whiny as my students in my old age.:
Kellan was right, of course. They both knew why she'd volunteered. As sick as Randale was, he needed Vanyel to stay in Haven. But if Savil didn't go investigate this disturbance, he'd send Vanyel anyway, and who knew what the cost would be? No, she had to go. She was old, but she wasn't dead yet. She could handle a bit of discomfort.
:Rest, love. I'll get us there.:
She sighed again and huddled under her cloak as the snow began to fall.
By the time they reached the inn, it was falling fast enough that she could barely see the entrance. If she hadn't been able to sense the people inside, they might have ridden past altogether. Savil was too stiff to dismount in the cold, so Kellan kicked the door once and backed up a pace.
The door opened with a rush of light and heat, revealing a rosy-cheeked young girl standing in the doorway. She looked puzzled, squinting into the darkness and rapidly falling snow, until Savil cleared her throat and she looked up.
"Oh! Milady Herald! I'm sorry; I didn't see you there."
Savil cleared her throat again, but her voice was still a little hoarse when she finally spoke. "It's fine." Given the amount of snow and the white of both Heraldic uniforms and Companions, it was no surprise the girl had missed them. "I'll need a guide to the stable for my Companion and dinner and a room for the night for myself."
"Begging your pardon, milady, but I think you'll need it for more than a night with all this snow."
The tone was polite, but certain, and Savil gave the girl an amused smile. It had been awhile since anyone had corrected her. "You're probably right. Until the storm is over, then."
It wasn't so bad to have to stay, Savil reflected, once she was inside by the fire and even her toes finally felt thawed out. Not only for the comfort, though she wouldn't protest that. This inn wasn't so far from where she'd felt the disturbance and the others stranded here could prove a valuable source of information. All she had to go on was a feeling, a sense of something deeply wrong in this direction. She might as well be going in blind. But maybe these people knew something, even if they didn't know they knew it.
She wasn't a field Herald; this kind of information gathering wasn't her specialty. For someone who had been on the Council, Savil still tended to be far too direct when she asked for what she needed to know. Luckily for her, people were settling in for the long haul and already bored – she didn't have to ask questions to hear things.
"You think Old Harcourt's really going to go through with it?"
"Nah. He's just talking. He doesn't really think that Aran girl's at fault – he's just mad his son wants to marry her."
"But then who is?"
"Maybe he did it himself."
"Did you see those sheep? There's no way he did that himself."
Savil frowned to herself. Sheep mutilations and a local feud – was that really what she'd felt? It seemed too minor for that to be all there was to it. She kept listening, but no one said anything further that seemed even potentially relevant.
She was still thinking about it when she went to bed that night. :We'll head over there and take a look once this storm breaks.: Even if it was unrelated, it was the closest thing she had to a lead.
Savil started up in bed, eyes wide but momentarily blind, despite the remains of the fire in the hearth. Darkness... cold... and fear, such an overwhelming fear. The sound of wings and the feeling of teeth at her throat. She shivered, huddled in on herself, only barely aware that whatever this was wasn't in the room with her.
And then, just like that, it was gone, leaving her gasping for breath.
:Kellan?:
:I felt it, too.:
:That was definitely not just some family feud.:
Savil closed her eyes and concentrated. Whatever or whoever it had been, it was gone now, but there were enough traces left that she thought she'd be able to pinpoint the area a lot more accurately than she'd been able to from Haven.
If the weather had been better, she'd have left at first light, but a quick check with Kellan verified that the girl who'd greeted her had been right – it'd be days before they could investigate. Days while the traces faded and while whatever-it-was got farther away, but there was no help for it.
With a groan, she lay back down. At least the bed was comfortable and a few days out of the saddle wouldn't go amiss. Despite the physical comfort and the knowledge that there was nothing she could do right now, it was a long time before she was able to fall back asleep.
Three more days passed before she was able to leave – three days in which she learned nothing else of use. No one else had felt what she had, but no one knew of any other disturbances in the area either. Or if they did, they weren't talking about them.
She had, however, discovered that both the Harcourt and Aran farms were in the direction she'd felt the disturbance.
The traces of magic she'd felt that night had faded, as she'd expected, disappearing like footprints in the snow. She and Kellan would have to rely on their own memories for this one.
:Good thing we're not senile yet. Even if there are some who might wish we were.:
It was still cold and the sky gray enough to at least prevent snow-blindness, but after the rest (or maybe just after being cooped up with a bunch of strangers), Savil felt her spirits lifting as they headed out. Maybe she wasn't too old for this. Maybe she didn't do it enough.
She reached the first of the farms by noon. They'd taken their time, but hadn't seen anything else suspicious. Kellan stopped at the turn off from the road that led to the distant house before Savil could say anything.
:Here, or very near.:
Savil nodded her agreement. The other traces had gone, but here... there was something, although she couldn't quite name it. No mage's signature that she knew; she was certain of that. But something felt off.
:Looks like we'll be taking a look at those sheep after all.:
The sheep they passed on their way to the farm looked normal enough. Someone had removed enough snow that they could graze and with their wooly coats, they looked more comfortable than Savil felt. They seemed calm enough, too, at least from the little experience she'd had with sheep. If something had disturbed them, it had been long enough ago that they'd forgotten it.
They had yet to reach the house when the door opened and a red-faced middle-aged man emerged. At first glance, he reminded Savil of Withen, but when he opened his mouth, she heard their father instead.
"Finally! A Herald! I suppose you've come to do something about that Aran witch."
Savil stiffened and fixed him with a steely glare, the sort that had cowed many a misbehaving student in its time. "It's Herald-Mage. I heard you're having some problems with your sheep."
He didn't back off, but he did look away and change his tone. "Problems! I'll say I'm having problems!" Turning away from her, he bellowed back into the house. "Rupert! Get out here! Show the Herald those sheep."
Rupert proved to be a large man, with the broad shoulders and muscled arms of one who was no stranger to fighting. Out here, that wasn't so surprising. They weren't so close to the border as to see raiders as often as some might, but that didn't mean it was safe. His attitude was nothing like the first man's, however. He nodded at Savil respectfully and kept his eyes lowered after.
"The ground's too hard to bury them, so we had to keep them." He shook his head, his entire manner suggesting discomfort. "No one wants them around, but there's not much else to be done. We knew they'd send someone sooner or later."
As he talked, he led Savil to the shed where they presumably usually kept farm equipment. Kellan followed along behind, as unobtrusively as something shaped like a large horse could.
It was too cold for the bodies to rot, but the small building smelled strongly of wet sheep. It wasn't the odor that caused Savil to nearly gag, however – it was what had been done to them. This wasn't just mutilation – this was clearly done with magic. The sheep had been tortured – twisted and transformed, body parts changed or removed. And she was certain it had been done while they were still alive.
Suddenly angry, she turned on the young man. "And you think your neighbor was capable of this?"
He raised his head; serious brown eyes met hers. "No. Kayleigh didn't do this."
"Then why does your father think so?" They'd never mentioned the relationship, but it was plain enough. This boy was the eldest son, the one who'd presumably inherit this place.
Rupert shook his head. "He's just angry because I told him I asked her to marry me. He doesn't... he's never liked them. The Arans, I mean."
Savil sighed. That part, she could well believe. But what she felt before and what had been done to these sheep went far beyond this kind of petty difference between neighbors.
"And you've never seen any signs that anyone would be capable of this?"
"No, never. I... I can't even imagine it."
That was no surprise. Savil could imagine it well enough, but this young man was too sheltered to have seen the things she'd seen. Still looking into his eyes, she probed for Gifts, but was unsurprised when she found none. If he had any, particularly the ones that might have done this, someone would have known. You couldn't hide that kind of talent, not in a small community like this one.
"All right. I'm going to start by talking to your father and then it looks like I'll be paying a visit to the Arans."
It was nearly dusk when she started for the Aran farm. She'd have to ask them to put her up for the night if possible and that was only partially deliberate. She'd spent several hours checking every member of the Harcourt household for Gifts and questioning them about what had happened to the sheep.
:Magic, for certain, and maybe some Healing mixed in, though I've never met a Healer who'd put it to that kind of use.: Even now, hours removed from the sight, the memory of those sheep turned her stomach. It looked almost like they'd been experimented upon, as though someone new to their abilities were exploring what they could do - someone who didn't care about the suffering they caused, or who only cared about it as part of the experiment.
:It's possible.: Kellan sounded hesitant, as though she were as reluctant to think of a Healer that twisted as Savil was. :But it's not very likely.:
It suggested she was looking for someone young – a teen or pre-teen, the age of some of her students, but with a personality that guaranteed they'd never be one of those students. No matter what mistakes had been made in the past – and she refused to name the mistake in question – Companions didn't Choose sadists. Never had and never would.
This also meant it probably wasn't Rupert's sweetheart – he was mid-twenties, at least, and she doubted the girl was much younger. But that didn't mean she didn't have siblings the right age for it.
:Someone who would do this, there would be some sign of it before now. These wouldn't be the first animals they'd tortured.: That sort of thing didn't take magic. But if anyone were known for that sort of thing, she hadn't heard it mentioned.
Truthfully, she doubted any of these people were responsible. Twisted people could be found anywhere; she knew that, and she'd investigate with that in mind. But she couldn't forget what she'd felt that night in the inn. Whatever it was, it hadn't felt human.
The Aran farm didn't look much different from the Harcourt one – they had sheep of their own and well-maintained buildings, too. They noticed her arrival before she had to actually knock, but the greeting she received was quite different.
"Milady Herald." The young, red-haired woman inclined her head politely, then offered a smile, albeit one with a cynicism unexpected in someone her age. "Come in. Join us for dinner and of course you're welcome to stay the night."
"Thank you. I appreciate it." Savil managed to dismount with a fair bit of grace despite the protest of her joints. "I'll also need a place to stable my Companion and fodder for her as well."
"Of course. I'll send someone to see to it."
Savil nodded and followed the girl inside; she trusted Kellan to tell her if there were anything wrong with her accommodations.
Once she was seated by the fire, a warm drink in hand, the girl who could only be Kayleigh Aran sat down across from her. "Bryant Harcourt sent you over here." It was a plain statement of fact, not a question, so she didn't have to clarify that technically, no one here had sent for her at all.
"I've heard the two of you have had some problems."
Kayleigh snorted and shook her head. "That's one way to put it. When my parents died, I was only sixteen. He thought that meant he could just come in here and take over our farm. Oh, he offered me money for it, but he didn't want to take no for an answer."
"But you didn't sell."
"This is my family farm! Of course I didn't sell. Where else would I go? This is all I know."
Savil nodded; she could understand that well enough. It wasn't as though she'd known much herself when she'd run off to Haven as a girl. If she hadn't been Chosen, things could have turned out much worse for her than she'd realized at the time.
"Then he wanted me to get married off so a man would be in charge. But I guess he didn't expect that man to be his son."
"You'd think he'd be pleased," Savil pointed out. "Your children would inherit both farms."
"Yes, but that wouldn't put him in charge." She grimaced at the thought. "And he didn't like that Rupert planned to live here after the wedding."
Savil thought about the little she'd seen of Bryant Harcourt and wasn't surprised. "From what I've seen of Rupert, he could stand to get out from under his father's thumb."
"Exactly. And he could do more good here than there – he isn't the only son. But once he leaves, his father can't control him any longer." Kayleigh's expression softened when talking about her intended, although her voice was still firm, with an edge of anger in it. In a lot of ways, she reminded Savil of herself – determined to make it on her own and inclined to take no crap from anyone. If she'd inherited Forst Reach at a young age, she'd have been much like this girl, and she found herself liking her despite herself.
All this made sense and fit with what little she'd seen of both families, although she had yet to meet the rest of the Arans. What it didn't explain were those sheep.
"Have you seen the sheep he says you mutilated?"
"Yes. Rupert showed me. He wasn't supposed to, but I wanted to see what I was being accused of." Kayleigh turned to look into the fire, her expression troubled, then turned to look directly at Savil. "He's crazy. How could he think I could do anything like that? That I would do anything like that?"
Savil might like her, but she wasn't stupid. She took the opportunity to check her for Gifts, and the rest of the household when she met them at dinner. The Arans were a young family and smaller than the Harcourts, but close-knit and warm, more so than the Ashkevrons had ever been.
The only Gifted she found among them, however, was a eight-year-old girl, Susana. Savil regarded the child with dismay – eight was young for this sort of thing, younger than she'd thought possible, but that didn't mean it couldn't be this child. Of course, she didn't have to depend on her own judgment for this. For that, she had Kellan, who might have already Chosen, but could still measure others for the qualities that made a Herald or, in this case, that very much didn't.
:Kellan? What do you think?:
There was a long pause, but finally the answer came back.
:No. This child is likely to be Chosen in a few years. She would never harm those sheep.:
And that was that. Savil trusted Kellan's judgment too much to second-guess her. And given what she'd sensed, it didn't surprise her in the least.
:Then tomorrow, we return to the Harcourts.:
The first obstacle she had to overcome was Bryant. Under the circumstances, he couldn't turn her away, not unless he were refusing Heraldic help altogether, but he clearly didn't like her staying there and liked her suggestions for how to handle things even less.
"It's not a matter of whether or not you trust magic. It's a matter of practicality." Savil glared at the man, cursing his ignorance and stubbornness. "You've said yourself that you can't guard the sheep because this only happens during snowstorms."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you do whatever it is to those sheep! Didn't you see them? Isn't that enough for you?"
"They won't even notice. And it won't harm them. I'm simply setting up an alarm, so I'll know whenever anyone is interfering with them."
"And what will you do then, a little old woman like you? You won't be able to fight off that girl!"
Things might have gotten really ugly if Rupert hadn't spoken up. "Father, let her try. We haven't gotten anywhere trying to watch them ourselves."
"You can't always be depending on the Heralds for help, boy," Bryant countered, but she could tell he was weakening.
"If you didn't want our help, you'd have turned me away when I arrived." Not that she'd have let him, given what she'd felt on his farm, but she didn't have to tell him that.
"Fine. But if I find you've harmed even one sheep...!"
Savil merely nodded, ignoring his threats. He couldn't do anything and he knew it, despite the bluster. Oh, he could send a complaint to Haven, of course, but no one there would listen, not to nonsense like this. They knew better.
The spell she'd proposed was simple enough – it was a much smaller variant of the one they used to cover Valdemar, though without other mages, she had to serve as the sole anchor and guardian. It took her longer than she'd expected to cast – the entire afternoon and into the evening – but when she was done, Savil regarded it with satisfaction. A web of purple light stretched over the sheep pasture, attached to the fences and their open winter shelters. No corner was left untouched; she'd know the instant anyone approached. She touched the fence and felt a mental tingle – yes, it was working. It would also be triggered whenever anyone went in to care for the sheep, of course, but better that than missing the culprit.
It was ten days before the next snowstorm, ten days in which Savil came to deeply regret coming out here at all. If she could, she'd have stayed with the Arans, but that was impossible – she had to be able to get out to the sheep pen in the middle of a blizzard. So instead she stayed with the Harcourts, nursing a growing dislike of the head of the family.
Bryant Harcourt was not only a petty tyrant who ruled his family with an iron fist, he also resented Savil's presence and managed to make that clear every chance he got. Savil couldn't help but compare his attitude unfavorably to Kayleigh Aran's immediate hospitality - hospitality offered before Savil had even asked, and this despite the fact that Kayleigh hadn't been the one to request a Herald to intervene. This stubborn, unwelcoming man had asked for her help, but you'd never be able to tell it from his manner. More than once, she considered returning to Haven and leaving him to deal with things himself. If she hadn't been so certain there was more than human malice here, not to mention sure he'd only make things worse on his own, she might have. As it was, her reports back had quite a lot to say on the subject of the man and general attitudes in the area.
When the snow came, it was at night, and the alarm jolted Savil out of a sound sleep. She mindcalled Kellan while she struggled to dress in the dark, cursing the way her joints ached when she first got out of bed these days and the sheer bloodymindedness that had caused Harcourt to leave her with nothing but a banked fire to see by.
It took longer than she'd wanted to make her way out the door and, once out, she couldn't see anything at all. Everything was swallowed by the dark and the snow that was blowing directly in her face.
Kellan, however, fared better, and nudged Savil gently with her nose. Grateful for the fact that she'd been riding since she could walk and therefore could mount Kellan by feel, she left it to her Companion to guide them to the disturbance.
She couldn't rely on her eyes for this, but she had other senses. Freed of the need to see physical obstacles, Savil took her first look at what was really happening and recoiled. Whatever it was, it had wings and too many sharp teeth. It wasn't a natural creature, that was certain, but it was sensed her presence and turned away from its work with a hiss.
Her eyes were closed to avoid the distractions of trying to see under these conditions with merely physical senses; without Kellan, she'd have missed the other part of the being before her entirely.
:Savil... it's Rupert.:
:It can't be. He has no Mage Gift, not even in potential.:
:Or something was hiding it from us.:
Either it had hidden the boy's power - and done so better than she'd ever seen - or all the power came from it, but she had no more time to think. It wasn't relevant, not right now. Cold shot at her, not just a gust of wind, but something focused, forced together with sheer power. Savil shielded instinctively, and flung a bolt of her own.
:Savil, the boy. He's still in there – that thing's wearing him like a suit.:
:Great. Have to get it out without harming him, then.:
The trouble was that the creature had no such limitation. It batted aside her disabling spells with ease and each of its blows were aimed to kill. Her shields were holding, for now, but she was tiring rapidly.
Think, Savil, think. Consider it an exercise – how would you want a student to deal with this? And then she knew. The thing before her wasn't Rupert – not really. It was possessing him, inside his body and, more importantly, inside his mind. And Savil wasn't just a Mage – she was a Mindspeaker, and a gifted one.
There were no nodes here, but the leyline was close enough to use and she made use of it freely, using its energy to fuel the spike she flung at Rupert's mind. The first one didn't do it, though she could hear both Rupert and the creature wailing, nor the second. But the third penetrated. There was a nearly audible snap as the two separated. Savil leapt from Kellan's back like a woman twenty years younger and caught Rupert as he fell.
From there, destroying the invader was simple. It was stunned from being forced out, enough so that its defenses were almost pathetic. Savil shredded them without effort and fired one final force bolt to end it, Rupert still unconscious in her arms.
It was another two days before she could leave and during those two days, Rupert never woke. He was still in there, she was able to verify that much, but he'd gone catatonic and not even Savil could reach him.
:There was nothing else you could have done.:
And Kellan was right: no matter how much she thought about it, Savil couldn't think of anything else she could have done. Not unless she'd been willing to wait for help to arrive, help that Haven couldn't spare to begin with.
Of course, no explanation was good enough for the young man's father. He was determined that she was at fault, that she'd intended to harm his son all along. Nothing she could say would convince him otherwise.
:He's going to make trouble, Van. It's just a matter of time.:
:I'll handle it. But what about his son?:
:The boy needs a MindHealer. Can you arrange to have one sent here?:
:I'll see what I can do.:
And that had to be that. Their resources were stretched thin, thinner than isolated landholders like these realized. Haven would send someone if they could spare them, but there were limits to what they could do. And as much as Savil wished she could fix this herself, it was beyond her capabilities.
:The boy was lost as soon as that thing got ahold of him.:
:Yes,: she conceded. :But what was it and where did it come from?:
For that, neither of them had an answer.
The day she left for Haven was bright, the glare of the sun on the fields of snow nearly blinding. If she hadn't been so clearly unwelcome, Savil might have waited another day, but as it was, she was more than willing to brave the conditions to escape that house.
She had almost reached the inn when she heard a horse behind her. Savil reined Kellan in so the rider could catch up. When they did, she wasn't at all surprised to see Kayleigh Aran.
"I thought I'd missed you!"
"You heard what happened." Savil looked at that bright young face and her heart sunk. She'd felt little pity for Harcourt – for all that Rupert was his son, it was clear he'd never seen him as much more than a possession. But that wasn't true of this girl. "I'm sorry."
Kayleigh shook her head. "Don't be. I wanted to thank you. You cleared my name and you got that thing out of him. I know he'd be grateful for that."
"Your name was never in any real danger. Anyone with eyes could see you were innocent." Anyone without Harcourt's prejudices, that was.
"Maybe not." Kayleigh looked away for a minute, staring off into the distance, even though the glare made her eyes water. Savil waited, sure there was more. Finally, she looked back, and her expression was sad. "How long, do you think?"
"Not long. A few months, at most. And I don't think it had control most of the time. Something about the snow brought it out, gave it power." That much she'd been able to tell from the traces left behind. Whatever it had been, it had no physical form, but it had left a corpse of sorts behind, for those with the ability to see it. "The man you knew – he was real. You weren't talking to that creature."
Kayleigh was still somber, but she looked relieved. "Do you think he'll come out of it?"
Savil sighed. She hated this part; she was never good at breaking bad news. This was one of the reasons why she so rarely did this sort of thing herself. "I don't know. He might wake up one day and it'll be like nothing happened. He might not." She paused, considering, then made a decision. "As soon as I get back to Haven, I'll have a MindHealer sent out. We'll bring him back to you." She'd make sure of it, able to truly spare them or not.
"Then thank you for that as well." Kayleigh sat there a little longer, until her horse shifted restlessly beneath her and Savil began to feel the chill seeping into her bones despite the sunlight. Then she looked up, nodded, and turned her horse in the direction of her farm.
:You don't know that anyone can really help that boy.:
:No. But it's worth a try. And even if they can't, the girl will be fine. She's too strong to let this destroy her.: Savil smiled a little to herself as they set off once more. :I'll tell Van to insist Harcourt make his complaints in person, then to give him the runaround, keep him away for a good long time. By the time he returns, I think he'll find he no longer has nearly the influence he once had.:
They rode in silence for some time, leaving the farms and even the inn they stayed at during that first snowstorm far behind before Kellan spoke. :For our first field assignment in quite some time, I don't think it went that badly.:
:You're right - it really didn't.: Savil was a little surprised. She wasn't lacking in confidence - had never been lacking in confidence, at least not if you asked those who knew her - but it had been long enough since she'd been in the field that she'd still felt unsure. This wasn't the perfect outcome she'd hoped for, but the immediate problem was handled. In the end, things would probably be better in the area for their intervention. :But I still don't intend to make a habit of it.: