The way station was small but quiet. It smelled old and dusty but it had a makeshift bed and a few comforts that made Jereth positively limp with happiness. He was asleep now, but Sidra stayed awake, unable to calm her buzzing head.
They had crossed into Valdemar just three days ago, found the way station yesterday. She could tell that the Companion was relieved by this- after nearly six months on the road, his home was in sight. Yet Sidra couldn't have been less happy for him, but she didn't let him know that.
Truth was that she was frightened. Not only of finally getting the definitive answers to all the questions she'd gathered on the road but also of the actual destination. The few times they had been around people, in the few villages they passed, in the k'Vala Vale, among the Shin'a'in clans, she'd been swamped by the emotions she'd felt around her. The shield she had been taught only held back the deepest emotions, but the surface ones were always present. She used the sensations she felt from all the living things around her to make her way through without her eyesight- a sixth sense that she knew she'd never be able to turn off.
The last of the Tayledras had warned Sidra about Haven; it was much bigger than even all the Vales and Shin'a'in clans put together. She was afraid of getting overwhelmed and lost.
At least her Bardic Gift was somewhat under control. With some practice, Sidra could now talk to the injured or ill without her power gushing out to do its work. A traveling Tayledras healer and scout had escorted them into k'Vala territory and had taught Sidra a few tricks along the way.
But they wouldn't protect her from all those minds invading her own. All the mages she'd met had explained to her that her abilities were not ones she could turn on and off like their own- they could take her very free will away from her and essentially force her to do the things they wanted to do.
A wound from the Mage Storms, they all said. Something completely out of her own fault or control.
Sidra was not hopeful or stupid. And from what she'd heard, neither were Heralds. It was no longer possible for her to believe that they might not see her as too untrustworthy. Uncontrollable. Wild. The only thing she had in her favor was Jereth, and how would one Companion fare against all of the rest if they all decided she was too much of a liability?
It was not only the sick she was beginning to be drawn to. It was the mentally ill as well, the stressed, and the depressed. A little girl, orphaned in a freak accident which only she out of her family had survived- Sidra had gone to her immediately when she'd felt her nightmare all the way across the Vale. Her grief and guilt had been all she could think about as she went, like a beacon she was drawn to.
The bandits they'd encountered just days after leaving Featherdance's ekele. Their desperation overrode her desire to save her own life. They were just farmers turned rogue from failing crops.
She had no idea where her life was heading but could she do her job- whatever that would be- if her magic kept causing her to go a different way? True control- if she could achieve it- also meant true blindness. Sidra had once looked through Jereth's eyes to see what the world actually looked like and vowed never to resort to that. The feeling of it was something she couldn't explain to her Companion and it was something she never wanted to experience ever again.
Maybe they would send her away. Some instinct in her knew that they would not kill her if she proved to be dangerous. But they could banish her. She knew it would break Jereth's heart if they did.
Would they see her as some sort of monster? With all her scars and wounds? Not everyone could be like Featherdance or the healer Darksky. Or An'desha.
She frowned, realizing that she hadn't thought about An'desha in a long time. Of all the people she'd met since Jereth had Chosen her, he was the one w/ the most hope and faith in her (aside from Jereth himself of course). She had connected w/ him instantly, he had understood her instantly. He had seemed to know exactly what had been initially wrong w/ her. And that frantic feeling he felt when he was around her; it wasn't lust or even pure love between mates. It reminded her somehow of little Swiftwind- for a few hours, Sidra had become the mother that the little girl had lost in the fire. What had she been for the Sworn One?
Thinking about An'desha suddenly made her feel calm. The tense feeling in her back eased and she sank a bit further down into her 'bed'. If they sent her away, maybe he would take her in. It wouldn't happen, but the thought calmed her enough to allow her to finally sleep.
