Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the multiple series' written by Tamora Pierce, or any of the original characters, places, or names. Only the plot and the new characters are mine.
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"Dark Child"
The Goddess sat. The Divine realms had little room for such a mistake as her brothers, this she knew. Unfortunately, she cared about the powerful god, some would say the most powerful God, more then she admitted.
"The child must be dealt with." The voice echoed to her left, the deep resounding ring of the voice of Mithros pierced the space between the two immortals. "She cannot be killed, as the laws dictate, but we must prevent her from becoming aware of the mistake made."
"I know." The Goddesses voice sounded wistfully. "But still, one has to imagine the power she must have."
"It is irrelevant. We must take action. It is a sad fortune that our brother did not tell us of the mistake until she was born into the mortal realm. We should have destroyed her in the womb."
"Yes. Even though she is a daughter, she is a mortal, powerful or no. We must find a way to fix this mistake of his.
"Yes. How old is she now in mortal time?"
"Barely three months," The goddess replied, "She is weak and unprotected, save for her mortal parents. We must destroy her."
"Yes." Mithros' voice echoed again, and the Divine realms, that place between life and the afterlife, melted away.
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The sun was just rising, and Elena was worried. She had not seen Eri since darkness fell, and the howls of the wolves had echoed all throughout the night. The surrounding mountains may have amplified the eerie canine wails, but they sounded as if they were outside the door of the little wooden shack nestled in the feet of the Roof of the World.
Elena had stayed inside the entire night, and Blake was trading their meagre supplies in the markets of Corus. Elena was afraid for the three month old baby that they had found in a cave, she was afraid that she had been eaten or maimed by the ravenous wolves that roamed the mountains in ever increasing numbers, looking for food of any sort. They sometimes had resorted to cannibalism, and the sounds of the wolves outside her house had sent shivers through her bones. Blake was due back that day, but she knew that the child had precious little time before the wolves found her, if they hadn't already.
Elena stood, and made her way though the hut, heading to the front of the house, ready to search, for her adopted daughter's sake.
As she reached the door, she stopped. There was a faint noise outside, and it sounded like, like crying? She opened the door, and on its swing outward, it almost hit a small bundle, wrapped in furs. It was Eri, and she was crying.
Elena quickly bent over and picked her up, then stopped.
In front of the house, which was situated in a little clearing, were about a half dozen dead wolves.
The woman stared for a moment, then looked at the small pink child she held in her arms. The child was smiling now, and its bright, amber eyes, which had disconcerted Elena at first, were clear and empty of tears. As Elena stood holding the child, she felt a chill come over her, though the day was already becoming warm. The child squirmed in her arms, and she Elena looked at the small bundle as she stood in the circle of dead wolves.
"What are you?" The woman asked of the child, but she received no response other then a toothless grin and a small burbling noise.
Elena had never been uncomfortable with anything out of the ordinary, but this child was something else, something she had never experienced. She took the child inside and set her in her crib. Elena turned about, and sat at a small wooden desk, one of the few valuables in her home, and began to write.
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An hour, and several sheets of thick homemade paper, later, she had finished her letter. It was addressed to the head mage in the citadel of Corus, which was several hundred miles away from her home in the roof of the world. Elena decided not to reveal that she had found the child in the wilderness, for fear Eri may be taken from her. She re-read her letter, checking for any mistakes she may have made;
Mage Numair,
I am writing from a small house in the roof of the world, and I believe that my daughter may have a gift, or something like it. Would you be able to test my daughter if I came to Corus in several weeks?
Neither I nor my husband has the gift, and I am not sure if this means she also isn't gifted, but I wish to find out, as I have had some experience with gifted children and know the damage they can do if they are not trained.
Please reply soon, as if I wish to leave for Corus, I must depart within two weeks, or the pass to the plains will be blocked, and I will not be able to come till next spring.
Sincerely,
Elena
Pleased, Elena set the letter down, and prepared for her trip into the small town of Selderra several miles away. As she bustled around the cabin, picking up coats and other necessities, she spoke to the child,
"You won't go off by yourself again, will you? Because I doubt if you could save yourself twice, even with whatever it is that you did to those wolves." Here she stopped and looked again at the child, who was asleep in her cradle.
Elena sighed, collected her gear and the letter, then walked out of the cabin, leaving the doors and windows securely latched, so the child couldn't wander off and get herself hurt.
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"Blake!"
Blake ignored the sound of Jarrod's voice. He was nearly home, and he didn't want to be disturbed, but Jarrod was persistent.
"Blake! Stop walking man, you know I'm not as young as I used to be!"
Blake sighed and stopped walking. Jarrod would keep this up all day unless he listened now.
"What is it Jarrod? I want to get home to my wife before next harvest."
"Well," Jarrod said, panting slightly from the effort of catching up to the tall young man, "I don't think that will be possible."
Blake looked at him, and turned slowly, "What do you mean?" he asked, a sense of foreboding stealing over him.
"They sent me to tell you. She's in the village, or what's left of her."
At these words, Blake's stomach dropped through his feet.
"What do you mean 'what's left of her'? Where is she?"
"Come with me, Blake, and you'll see." Jarrod's voice was gentle, and Blake felt himself being guided to the hut of the village healer.
Crowds of people had gathered at the door of the hut, and all of them seemed shocked, horrified at the carnage that, Blake was sure, lay within.
Blake walked in, relying heavily on the arm of Jarrod, and then he saw his wife, lying on the table.
He nearly retched, feeling his stomach rebelling as his unwilling brain processed what was before him. Elena had obviously been savaged by wolves, and she was barely recognisable. Unfortunately, Blake thought, he would know his wife anywhere, and that included this bloodstained table. Someone handed Blake the small pile of belongings that Elena had carried, and he took them automatically, in oblivion of sorrow.
He looked once more at the sad figure on the table, and then did the only thing he could think of.
Blake turned, and ran.
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He ran all the way to the house that he and his wife shared, and threw open the door. Inside he heard the baby squalling its distress, and Blake wandered through the cloth that separated the bedchamber from the rest of the house. He sat on the bed, and stared at the child in its cot, which had become quiet now that a familiar face was near.
She looked up at him, and Blake could see the smile in her eyes, the innocence unaware of the death that surrounded her. He made himself a promise that he would take care of this child that had unexpectedly come into the life of he and his wife. But now he was alone, and he needed some reminder of his wife, and that innocence was still in this world. Blake gently covered the child, who drifted off to sleep.
Blake remained on the bed and went through the pile that he still carried in his arms. He took care, handling the items gently. There was mostly food and supplies, and also, strangely a letter. Blake opened it, and read its contents.
Afterwards, he looked at the child again, wondering what it was that had alarmed his wife so. He had seen, but not registered the dead wolves, and wondered if that was it.
He decided that it didn't matter, and lay down on the bed.
Blake curled up and cried.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was murmuring to the sleeping child, a phrase never forgotten, but never again spoken,
"I will always take care of you."
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