A/N: Have a Middle of the Week Distraction! (I'm supposed to be
studying right now. Instead I decided to distract both myself and
whoever gets an email alert for this story. Heh heh. Spread the
procrastination!
:Raul?: Faolan asked, while lying inside her tent, before drifting off to sleep. Faolan had been with the scouts for a few weeks, and they'd just gotten back a few hours ago from another uneventful scouting adventure- well, uneventful for her. They were taking a three day break, break meaning they weren't outside the encampment. It didn't meant they just sat around all day doing nothing. She saw Roscoe on and off- more to his unhappiness than hers. She was being absorbed into her scouting group, absorbed into being a scout again. Though she hadn't seen any action, scouting was in her blood. She'd died a scout after all, in this very same war- though on the other side. Thoughts like that gave her the chills.
:Yes?: came the faint reply a few moments later, and a familiar rush of warmth, like a tight hug.
:I'm a Scout again,: Faolan started, :Though I haven't seen much yet. They do it in a wolf-human pattern, with the wolves leading and the humans trailing with clothes and packs and steel weapons. It's pretty good, and secure. My group's been in a few skirmishes, but no one's been hurt yet. Why hasn't Karse won the war yet?:
:Because of you,: Raul answered, without missing a beat, :We know they're werewolves. We were losing, truly, before we got that information. The soldiers don't hear howling anymore. They reported, after learning the enemy was werewolves, that they often heard howling, sometimes all night long, and even would see wolves slinking along in the woods. That doesn't happen anymore. Any wolf is shot on sight. That was one of their greatest advantages.:
Our greatest advantage, Faolan thought silently, musing, And I gave it away.
:I really hate this war,: Faolan confided a moment later, :I am a werewolf, not matter how much I'm a Herald, and… it's really hard to keep turning against them. It feels so wrong, after all they've done for me. They trust me like one of their own… And their reasons for fighting are all good- I've run out of reasons to be working against them.:
:Except that they're killing your people,: Raul pointed out, :Living off Valdemar's pain.:
:Not everyone's a Herald, Raul!: Faolan thought 'loudly' to Raul, :Not everyone can sacrifice themselves! Werewolves have a right to live!:
:Faolan…: Raul's mindvoice was soothing, :It's hard, I know it is. You didn't think it would easy, did you?:
:No,: Faolan answered, letting Raul change the subject. There was no good answer to that argument, she knew. There was no answer to the war. No way she could stopped her loved ones- on both sides- from eating each other up.
:Hello?: a new voice suddenly broke in, and Faolan's connection with Raul was gone. She opened her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest as she tightened her shields over her. Who was that? Who interrupted them? What had they heard? She didn't dare reach out to Raul- not if someone was listening in. She hadn't been aware people could listen in to private channels like that- but she and Raul were both broadcasting very far- maybe their shields stretched thin too.
Faolan waited, staring sightlessly up into the darkness, the pounding in her heart slowly fading. But her tension did not. She kept waiting, and soon enough, she felt it. A slight, curious nudge at her shields, one like she had not felt in years, since being at Haven. Her heart beat into its quick dance again and she pulled her shields in tighter around her mind. But then it retreated, and all was quiet in the spiritual realm once more.
Faolan had almost fallen back asleep when she heard soft foot falls outside her tent, stealthy and creeping. They stopped right outside, and Faolan thought she could hear someone breathing. A hand ran across the canvas, making a sound like claws, and then the flap was gently pulled aside. Despite her fear, Faolan closed her eyes, faking sleep, and kept her ears pricked for any sound. For a long time, all she could hear was the intruder's soft breathing.
But then, softly, ever so softly, she heard a voice whisper, "Come outside. You've nothing to fear. Please. I want to talk."
Faolan slowly pried her eyes open to see the her tent flap fall back into place. She heard the footsteps back off a few paces, then stop. There was silence. Whoever it was, they were waiting out there for her. She hesitated a moment, then crawled out from under her furs and out into the cool night air.
A young man was standing there, watching her- or so she surmised from the direction his face was pointing. Faolan reached into the tent and slipped her boots on, all the while watching this werewolf who watched her. When she was ready, he made a hand motion, telling her to follow, and turned around. He led her through many tents and out onto the silent practice field. When they were fifty feet from the tents, he stopped, sat down, and motioned for Faolan to do so as well.
"My name Dashiell," he said softly, his words wafting through the summer night. Faolan still couldn't quite make out his face- the only light shining down on them was from the stars.
"I'm Faolan," Fao answered reluctantly, wondering if this was the person who'd poked into her conversation with Raul.
"Are you aware of the fact that you are a witch?" he inquired.
Faolan started for a moment at his terms- who'd taught him? But she quickly recovered and said, "What?"
"You can speak with your mind," he said, "I heard you… just bits and pieces of your thoughts, slipping through your walls. You have to know- your walls are very good."
"I…" Faolan stared at him, at a loss for words.
"It's all right," he said, "I can do it too. You won't be burned here. You're not crazy, what you have is special."
"Burned?" Faolan echoed, not entirely following his train of thought, and still debating whether or not to admit it or deny it. Either could lead to safety or death.
"That's what the Karsites do to witches," Dashiell said slowly, "It's what Jessen- the Karsite Priest, wanted to do to me. The Commander wouldn't have it- told him to train me instead. We won't tell him about you though, now will we?"
Faolan peered at him, and managed to make out a grin on his shadowed face. She only frowned back at him, too surprised to find someone with Heraldic Gifts among the werewolves to do anything but try and figure out if this meant she was dead or not.
"So- tell me, Faolan, about your magic," he said a moment later, when it was clear she wasn't replying to his previous comment.
"I… I didn't know I could speak in minds," Faolan said carefully, "But I did hear you. Tonight."
"You did?" he grinned again, "I thought so- you were awake when I came to your tent. But you must have known- you have iron walls."
"Walls?" Faolan echoed, playing ignorant.
"Yeah… like a mental barrier that stops others from reading your thoughts," Dashiell explained, "'Cept yours wasn't working too well tonight. That is, until I spoke to you. Then they got very, very tight."
Whoops, Faolan thought, Maybe I shouldn't have done that.
"Ah," Faolan said, "I think I know what you're talking about. But I didn't know- it was for speaking in minds."
"You must have known. Did you ever hear things that weren't your own thoughts?" Dashiell inquired.
Faolan paused, as if she were thinking it over, then answered, "Well… yeah. I have. I thought I was just… my mind making things up. I found that when I concentrated, they'd go away- I built mental walls- just as you said, and that kept the words away."
Dashiell was silent, and Faolan stared at him, trying to see his expression and tell if her lies were working. He let out a long sigh, then reached over and patted her knee- she could tell he was grinning again, and relaxed.
"Very interesting, Faolan," he said, "I suppose being a werewolf gave you that edge- like me. Jessen said I was a fast learner. I wonder if I'd have made my own shields if my speaking in minds hadn't been caught so quickly when it sprouted up."
"Jessen," Faolan started, "The Karsite Priest. He has Gifts, too?"
"Gifts?" Dashiell echoed and Faolan cursed in her mind, "If that's what you want to call it, then, yes, to an extent. But neither of us can go into Valdemar, over the actual borders. That's why I stay back here- it's okay here. Inside Valdemar though… it's creepy. You've been over the border though- you're a Scout. I'm not even sure where the actual border is, come to think of it. I know I get the creepies about fifteen miles north of here. The border from the war is in a different place- well it's really a two hundred mile stretch, I suppose that we're fighting in… but… anyway. You?"
Faolan stared at Dashiell and then answered, "I… no. I've never noticed anything… What do you mean by creepies?"
Dashiell sighed, then peered at her and said, "Like I'm being watched. Constantly. Malevolently. Only inside Valdemar."
"And this happens to everyone who has… magic?" Faolan inquired, honestly puzzled. Magic had once existed, she even remembered it- everyone else knew through the tales of its long lost use, and of the Herald-Mages. Those had been exciting days… But it wasn't around anymore, except for the Heraldic Gifts. Unless there was still magic outside of Valdemar and somehow it was Valdemar that was expelling the magic.
"Yes," Dashiell nodded eagerly, now that she had understanding, "Everyone. Except you, apparently."
He peered at her a little longer and then said, "Are you… Valdemaren?"
Faolan stared at him then said, very carefully, "Not anymore. I was born in Valdemar, but I was bitten when I was three, and when I was seven I found a werewolf village. Now I'm here."
Dashiell laughed, and it sounded very loud compared to the hushed voices they'd been using. He quickly cut it off, glancing over her shoulder at the tents, and then turned his gaze back onto Faolan and said, "Sorry. I guess that explains it. Those demon riding Heralds or whatever have magics too- but they're fine, obviously, so I guess the Watchers only affect foreigners."
Faolan stared at him, and made a note to talk about this to Raul at some point, and didn't say anything more.
Dashiell filled the silence, however, with a, "Well, now we know your secret, Faolan. Things will be a lot more fun for you- especially since you can cross the border. You're a Scout, right? You were sleeping in Ursula's camp so you must be. You won't need any human relays anyway- all the stuff you see can come straight to the Command's quick message focal point. Me. Unless of course they decide to send you to one of the other main camps and you get to sit in a tent all day relaying messages… Huh. Not my choice, anyway. That will be the Commander's."
"Uh… Dashiell?" Faolan asked, "I don't know how to use my speaking in minds…"
"Ah!" he said, once more a little too loudly, then quieted himself, "Of course! I forgot- you just have walls." He chuckled and said, "Well you won't be sent off any time soon then. You'll be here. With me. Training."
"Training?" Faolan echoed, "What about scouting?"
"You like that then?" he wondered, peering at her, "Well- everyone's different, I suppose. You're here for a few more days before going out, so you can get some training before then, if you're not transferred out of Ursula's group. Who knows? You know- I bet the Commander is still awake. Let's go see him now."
"What about sleep?" Faolan asked as he stood up. She reached behind herself and shoved herself up, her hands pressing into the dry dirt of the practice field.
"Meh," he replied, "This is more important."
He broke into a trot and Faolan hurried to keep up as he entered the rows of tents and wove quickly between them. Faolan almost lost him in the darkness, but managed to tail him all the way to a large, long tent marked with two red stars on the tent flaps, which were closed. But a faint light was coming out from beneath them and as Faolan realized Dashiell was right about the Commander's sleeping habits, she felt the first shiver of real fear since she'd heard Dashiell whisper to her in the darkness, "You've nothing to fear."
Dashiell gave the tent a light whap and the tent flaps peered back, revealing a dark wolfish face, who stared up at them accusingly, nose twitching and eyes suspicious.
"Dashiell," Dashiell said, "I've got a little anomaly in our normal workings. Very important the Commander should know."
The werewolf stared at them a little longer, then pushed the tent flap aside for them to step through. Dashiell did so quickly, and Faolan followed. The wolf guard then let the flap drop shut again and he sat down behind the flaps. The tent was lit with four torches, one in each corner, burning brightly and casting moving shadows over the wall. At the far end was a cot piled in furs, a chest, and a weapons rack. Closer to the center was a large table, littered with maps and papers and small wooden pieces. Faolan realized she was staring at the center of command for the entire werewolf army.
The Commander, Garth, as he'd introduced himself when Faolan first came, looked up with tired eyes as they entered. He was standing to the right, leaning on the table and staring at something Faolan couldn't make out. His hair had grown a little since Faolan last saw him, but he looked much the same: tall, powerful, and commanding.
"What is it, Dashiell?" the Commander inquired, straightening up.
"Faolan can speak in minds too, sir," Dashiell said with a salute, "Thought you should know."
The Commander's eyes flashed over onto Faolan and he stared at her with no expression for a minute, then said, "You knew about this?"
Faolan shook her head, "Not until tonight, sir. Dashiell heard me accidentally broadcasting, sir."
"I see he's done some explaining," the Commander's eyes swept back to Dashiell and he asked, "Is she any good?"
"Strong walls, sir," Dashiell said, "I haven't tested anything else, sir."
"Test her," the
Commander said, then to Faolan, "You're a Scout?"
"Yes,
sir," Faolan answered.
"Excellent," he
said, and his head turned back to Dashiell, "Wait until morning.
Take her off any other duties. My orders. Tell Ursula. When you know
her strength, report back to me. Before noon tomorrow.
Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Dashiell said with another salute.
"Dismissed," the Commander said, and turned back to the table.
Dashiell started to leave, and Fao following, then the Commander added, "Make sure she's not lying, Dashiell."
"Sir- yes, sir," Dashiell said smartly, and led Faolan out of the Commander's tent, then escorted her back to her own.
Faolan sank gratefully onto her furs, and though she didn't think she'd be able to sleep a wink after that, she almost immediately sunk into a deep sleep, and didn't wake until the wake up horn of the next morning.
A/N: So what do you think?
Also, thanks go to:
cosmicfalcon-Well I happen to know when they run into Heralds, but do YOU really want to know? Heh heh heh.
oneswordsworn-Thank you! I am glad you enjoy my writing. (I enjoy writing it.)
Stormy Phoenix- Yah, I already responded to your comments. But uh... yeah Roscoe likes Faolan. That's all I'll say.
hannah- Thank you for giving me your support! It is extremely appreciated.
ginalee- Yeah, Faolan is one of my favorite characters, and no, she
doesn't have it easy at all! But that's kinda typical of a lot of
Heralds.
Sunfairy-I try to update regularly- I think there was a two month stint
where I didn't put anything up but I've gotten things going again- it
was around end of semester, new classes and stuff. I think I can safely
say updates will be regular from now until the end of the story! I just
figured that out myself a few weeks ago actually. Mwahaha.
