Authors note: Yay! Reviews! And questions, which I will answer here: *if ya didn't ask a question or ya don't care, below the line of stars is the story (enjoy!)*
Aileen- Well, like Menith said before, "It takes time for Mind-Gifts like those to develop". I'm afraid that the worse is yet to come, so I'd say he's more like Van then just sensitive.
Matt- Good question. Van had to deceive Y'fandes, remember? When he- well, if ya don't remember, go read his trilogy again. Anyway, Menith didn't exactly lie to Hyatee, he is always on the defensive about things, and fast comebacks slip through his mind before they do his tongue. But I don't think Hyatee could be fooled, even if Menith tried. ^_^
Herald Mystylenna- *smiles* all good questions, unfortunately I can only answer a few, to keep this story interesting and suspenseful ^_^. Well, Neo's at the Collegium because . . . you'll find out probably next chapter ^_^, girls chasing him? Next chapter again . . . and what does he look like? I'm sorry if I didn't put a good description of him in the first chapter . . . but there is one. Dark brown hair and sharp eyes basically. And why hasn't his Companion Chosen him yet? *grins evilly* A few more chapters until that's answered . . .
And to two of my reviewers- I'm sorry, I had to update this first, but Magic in its Many Forms will be updated soon, never fear!
And, of course, Midnight.Star- *returns the hug* well what else could I do, if not return the favorite authors favor? *pats Hyreli, but passes on the ride* I don't think he'd like me as much as he likes you, I'm not much of a rider ^_^.
*************************
Menith's boots clicked methodically as he walked down the hall. He had yet to talk with the boy who was causing the whole of the Heralds so much trouble, but he would have to soon.
He had never been good at avoiding things or people, and it was thanks to many miracles and Hyatee's fast hooves that he had survived his ironically un-chosen career so far.
But he had never been up against something like this.
Arrows, fire, wind, snow, and magic he could work with. Mind Gifts too powerful to imagine was something way out of his league.
And I'm supposed to be the most qualified! Hah!
He stopped walking, looked narrowly at the door which held the boy, and crossed his arms thoughtfully.
I might as well get this over with. He should be too sedated to know truth from lie, even if he did use his Gift, so now would be the best time to tell him something about being called a Herald Trainee . . .
His quick mind began spinning ideas about, and Menith gave it a moment or two before opening the door and stepping quietly inside.
The first thing that met his eyes was the boy himself, propped up by pillows and as pale as ice. He blinked large dark eyes at Menith in silent question.
Menith smiled unevenly and took the stool meant for Healers that lay beside the bed.
"I hope you had some rest, lad." An embarrassing realization came to him.
Damn it all . . . what is this boy's name? I don't recall anyone telling it to me . . .
:Neoka Marron. Son of a local aristocrat, Chosen.: Hyatee provided helpfully. Menith sighed.
:I know he's a Noble.: he said, thinking bitterly of the short talk he had with Kara only a few short minutes ago, :but thank you for the information just the same.: he added.
Neoka was still watching him.
"I'm sorry sir, but you don't look like a Healer . . ." he trailed off and a spark of something flashed momentarily in his eyes. Menith could have sworn it was recognition, but it was so brief that he couldn't be sure.
"No, no I'm not a Healer. I'm Herald Menith. We . . . talked . . . just last night." The recognition returned and Neoka's mouth opened a small amount, before he seemed to realize he was gaping a little, and closed it.
"Oh." He said simply, diverting his gaze. Menith sighed. He had never been good with Nobles, never had any respect when it came to them, not if they hadn't earned it.
"Yes, well, we have quite a few things to work out Neoka. The first of which is about your lessons." He stopped and studied the boy for his reaction.
He was rewarded by only an emotionless glance.
"I'm well ahead of my year-mates, Herald. I do not think a few days spent in the Healers Wing will dent my studies. I have been coming to the Collegium since I was only eight." He offered, keeping the cold exterior.
Menith watched him worriedly. This boy was completely different then the one the night before. It took a lot of self control to keep such rapid and strong thoughts like his under such a flawless façade.
Blood must be true, to be coming from the Marron's, he thought idly, returning to the problem at hand.
"Not those lessons. The lessons on your Gift. On how to Shield. It has been decided that I will be your teacher." Another emotionless glance, but that was it.
"Oh." He said again. Frustration welled up inside Menith.
"Neoka, I wouldn't usually lower my Shields and see what's inside that head of yours, but you're really pushing it. You need to be taught lad! Before you-" he cut himself off and grinded his teeth together.
Neoka fixed him with a stare that almost had him as frustrated as before, and then he answered.
"I don't want to know what people are thinking." He said firmly, surprisingly firm in Menith's ears. He didn't doubt him for a second, "I don't want people to know what I'm thinking. There must be a way to stop this!" desperation now made itself apparent in the boy's gaze, and Menith fought the unfamiliar urge to fidget.
"No. Once a Gift is active, that's it. But with Shields you can stop thoughts yourself, it would be a type of block, I suppose." He explained, leaning forward to place his arms on his knees.
They both remained silent for a few more moments, and when Neoka finally spoke it was with great reluctance.
"Then . . . it is the only way. Once I have Shields, I can forget about it?" Menith shook his head.
"If you don't control the Gift, it will control you. You must be taught how to direct it, that is the only way." He wasn't looking at Neoka, but the white sheets on the bed moved minutely as if he had flinched.
"I didn't ask for this," the boy said quietly, to himself probably.
Neither did I, Menith thought silently.
:But you both got it. Do what you can for him little brother, but make him understand what is expected of him.: Hyatee said suddenly in his mind. Menith shook his head.
:I don't think the boy has ever had any responsibility placed upon him before this . . . he'll do something drastic to get away from it, is my bet.: what a loss . . .
:No! Menith, it mustn't be so! He must learn to accept the Gift, for the sake of Valdemar! You must teach him to accept and to control.: Menith blinked.
:What? You sound as if the boy were destined, Hyatee! I tell you, it will take longer then before his next Reaction Headache to teach him responsibility. Kara does not expect him to live beyond that, remember?: what was he quarrelling about? Why was he arguing that the boy would die? Why on Velgarth would he think such a thing?! Even as he asked himself these questions, he knew the answer. Kara was right, the next Reaction Headache would be stronger then the first . . . and to one so frail as a child, it would be a lethal blow.
:I remember her and the foolishness she thought was sense. But listen Chosen; the boy must survive, his Journey is not to end here, but it will only be so if you make it so. Please Menith, please help him through it.:
Menith was stunned into silence. What did his Companion know about Neoka that no others knew?
"Herald? Herald?" he was brought back to reality by Neoka's increasingly worried calls. He smiled softly for a moment, trying to look reassuring.
"Sorry . . . anyway, we have to discuss something . . ."
Neoka watched him carefully.
"Is it about the Healer calling me a Herald Trainee?" he asked. Menith looked at him sharply.
"Yes. You didn't refute her did you?" he didn't know what answer he wanted to hear, but waited patiently for the boy to talk.
"No . . . I didn't say anything. I thought that there was a good reason behind it. Would you kindly explain, Herald?" Menith hated it when people became so stiffly polite; they always expected him to do exactly the same thing, though he never could.
He couldn't even be plain civil most of the time.
"I would . . ." he had to think on his feet, if he was going to get the boy to believe him, "Healer Y'von, your Healer, is the only one with experience in Reaction Headaches. She knows everything there is about them," so far he hadn't lied . . ., "Reaction headaches are side effects of overexerted Gifts, and yours was enough to bring the Collegium down. The easiest way to explain how a child had that much power was that he had been Chosen, and his Gifts awakened. Companions rouse our Gifts, when they Choose, Neoka. If it were to be known a boy had such power, without the help of a Companion . . . bad things could happen." It was a different aspect of the truth. He had given a worthy excuse, and it was the truth!
His self congratulations didn't last long.
"And just how long do you expect people to believe this little white lie? I don't have a Companion, and my uniform consists of blue, not gray. I think I would be found out in a matter of days." Neoka's face closed off, and Menith could tell that there were more problems the boy had found, but didn't feel like exposing just then.
"We can pass you off as a Herald Trainee until your Gift is trained, but you have to act the part. Don't talk with too many people, and don't be caught doing anything you shouldn't." the last part had come out wrong. An echo of Kara's thoughts on how the boy might be cruel. But before Menith could take back what he said, the boy responded.
"And in exchange for this . . . you teach me to put up Shields." He was straightforward, a surprising attribute in his age and class.
"Yes. The details are working themselves out now. Lessons will be everyday, whenever I have time to spare." He got up from the stool and stretched, "Rest, Neoka. You need it." And with that last word Menith was gone. The door swung with the smallest of squeaks and Neoka barely caught a glimpse of the Herald's boot before it disappeared around the corner with the rest of him.
With a soft sigh Neo dropped back among his pillows and watched the ceiling.
The Herald's right . . . I do need sleep . . . and that Healer gave me too many sedatives to hear thoughts anytime soon . . . his own thoughts drifted away, and the only sound in the room was the soft snoring of an exhausted boy.
***
Neo woke slowly, his eyes flickering open.
Light filled the room, making the crisp white sheets bright enough to make him blink. The whole room was white, with beds either empty or holding sleeping and bandaged patients.
But the light wasn't the thing that awoke Neo.
Pain filled screeching, louder then anything he had ever heard was the reason. He looked around.
Healers were crowded around a bed only a few spaces away from him. He sat up and watched, wincing as the screams doubled in shrillness.
Whoever the Healers were standing around, whoever was screaming like that, must be in worse pain then he was with his Reaction headache. Neo watched silently, trying to keep from wincing, as the Healers continued to Heal, seemingly unperturbed by the ear-splitting wails.
He glanced at the sleeping patients to his left and noticed that they didn't seem to hear the noise either. It was very strange, considering the noise was enough to give Neo another Reaction headache.
Through the deafening cries he could barely hear the Healers talking with each other.
"Thank the gods he's not conscious . . . he'd take every other patient in here with him, if only by his screams." A sympathetic voice said. Neo shook his head.
Not conscious? What did that mean?
He closed his eyes and tried to block out the screaming. Putting his hands over his ears didn't help, and burying his head in his pillow didn't either.
"Neoka," A voice sounded near his ear. He sat up and looked Healer Y'von, trying not to grimace at the howls, "Menith was here earlier, while you were asleep. He wanted me to tell him when you were awake, so that he could start his lessons." Even through the distractive noise Neo could clearly hear her disapproval, "Would you like me to tell him you're awake?"
He nodded, thinking that the Herald might be able to do something about the shrieks.
Healer Y'von sighed, smiled lightly at him, and exited the room.
Neo stole another glance at the group of Healers. Some were leaving now, shaking their heads in confusion, and Neo caught a look at the person on the bed.
His face was contorted in pain, sweat covered his body, and his fists were clenched so tight they made Neo's hands hurt just looking at them.
But his mouth wasn't open. He wasn't screaming aloud. The room should have been silent, but the screaming continued.
Neo knew the yells came from the man, without knowing how he knew, and fixed his gaze stubbornly on the door until Menith passed through it, looking nervously at the group of Healers.
He approached Neo and smiled momentarily, then sat on the stool he had used last time.
"Have a nice rest?" he asked. Neo nodded, leaning back against the pillows and fixing Menith with what he hoped was an unreadable stare.
"Herald . . . what's wrong with that man?" Menith blinked and looked over his shoulder, where Neo was pointing. He remained silent for a few moments, then turned back and fixed Neo with a deep amber stare.
"I don't know, but it doesn't look like a flesh wound, so it probably isn't that painful. It might just be a new sickness the Healers discovered." Neo looked back at the 'screaming' man.
"I think it's very painful . . . you . . . you don't hear him?" Menith was a source of information, the very first Herald Neo had ever talked to, and becoming more of a reliable source of comfort at every moment. Menith smiled when Neo talked with him, he answered questions, and he was the only one to visit him so far. Maybe he would be able to answer some confusing subjects.
"I don't hear him, Neoka. He's unconscious, he isn't making any noise." Menith sounded patient, but also curious. Neo hesitated, then continued.
"I know he's unconscious. But he is making noise. He's screaming . . . but I seem to be the only one hearing him." Menith looked startled, and Neo silently berated himself for giving the Herald a chance to think he was crazy.
Menith wasn't thinking anything of the sort, in fact he was more surprised Neo could even see the "screaming" patient with all the drugs he'd been given, much less hear the mind screaming.
He looked at the group of Healers and thought hard.
"Maybe . . . if I lower the Shields . . ." he thought aloud, and tentively lowered his defenses.
He slammed them back up immediately.
Screams like no other he had ever heard were still echoing inside his head, and he knew his face had gone pale.
"Herald?" Neo asked, seeing the change.
"Yes . . . yes, the man is screaming, Neoka. I had better Shield you myself, for now, or else you won't be able to concentrate." Menith said shakily, doing just that.
Neo blinked. It was quiet! The screams had ceased to nearly blind him with sound! He looked gratefully at Menith.
"Thank you . . . can you keep these up?" he asked, a little worried of the answer. It was blissfully noiseless in his mind, except for his own thoughts, and he could no longer 'sense' where people were.
"No . . . I can only do so now because your Gift is sedated, and recently awakened. I'll keep them up until you can make your own though." He promised, which was good enough for Neoka.
"Thank you," he said again. The Herald nodded, and his instruction began.
By the time Menith left, Neo was exhausted. Both of them were surprised at how fast he had learned, and Menith was extremely pleased when Neo could erect and hold a firm Shield for as long as ten minutes.
"Good!" he had praised, clapping his hands and beaming at him, "Very good! If you keep this up you should be able to put up full Shields before your next Reaction."
Neo had been so relieved to hear that, though he had been panting at the exertion of spending that much energy, that he had smiled fully at the Herald, making Menith seem surprised once more.
Neo could barely even open his eyes anymore, and as he slipped unresistingly back into unconsciousness, he smiled at Menith's Shields, and his own, tiny reinforcements.
***
"Damn it, I tell you he will be ready to Shield before he gets out of the Healer's grasp!" Menith shouted angrily, hands balled into angry fists on Kara's desk. She observed and listened to him calmly, but her disbelief was as clear as the moon outside her window.
"He isn't Chosen, he is only a child, and has a questionable soul. Menith, I see no way Neoka could erect powerful enough Shields to protect his Gift." She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to shout some more, "But I will talk with Jhaspar about the possibility." She fell silent and eyed him critically.
"Very well." Menith growled, finding no other way to do things.
"And I will also see the boy's progress. If he doesn't have powerful enough Shields by the end of this week, Menith . . ." she stopped, but Menith knew what she was threatening.
"You can't. I won't let you." He stated, feeling his muscles tense at the thought of what the Heralds would be forced to do to Neoka.
Kara had a point, even though Menith would probably never admit it. Neoka could become extremely dangerous if the full strength of his Gift were let loose. Under that kind of pressure, the Heralds would be forced to "do something" about the problem.
One loss chosen over many.
Menith felt himself becoming sick at the thought, and he turned his rage upon the graceful and silent Kara.
"I won't let you destroy him because he is something you don't understand! Something you can't control! I don't care if the whole Collegium is against me, I wont let you kill him!" there, he had said aloud what both were afraid to say. Kara's delicate skin paled a shade or two, but she didn't loose her collectiveness.
"I hope things do not become so that you are forced against us, Menith. I hope this will not turn out as we have predicted." It wasn't what Menith wanted to hear, and he proved this by stalking out of her room and down the hall.
They can't call themselves Heralds if they think death is an option! Menith seethed to himself as he reached his own chamber, If I say Neoka can erect full Shields, he can damn well do it! Who does she think she is, making an ultimatum like that for only a boy?!
He was so distressed and concerned with Neo's welfare, he almost didn't Hear Hyatee.
:Don't think of it like that, Chosen,: he said soothingly, :Kara must think of the pain and death Neoka could bring, she must prepare for the worst. Such as we must push for the best. Kara is indeed remorseful for what she might have to do, but she accepts her duty, because she is a Herald.: Menith shook his head, calming in this explanation of Kara's attitude, and slumped onto his bed.
:I wont let her do her duty, if it comes to that, Hyatee. Neoka is not cruel . . . he smiled at me today, even though I didn't do much for him, and his smile was not cruel. He is only a boy, for Haven's sake!: he said, frustrated. He Felt Hyatee's understanding, and it calmed him more.
:That is why we must work to strengthen Neoka, and save the Collegium.: for some reason Menith got the feeling Hyatee was talking about some other "saving of the Collegium", then the one they would bring about through Neoka's training. But he couldn't pinpoint the feeling, so he let it go.
Immediately a new problem came to him, waiting until he got over his anger, and Menith cursed aloud.
The sickness, that Neoka Heard! I meant to ask Kara about that . . . he would look like an idiot, strolling into her room and acting like nothing had happened. Instead, he decided to ask the Healer Y'von about it.
Getting up a little reluctantly from the bed, he again left his room in search of answers.
***
Healer Y'von sat on her cushioned sofa with a soft sigh. The day had been exhausting, to say the least. First, the mysterious Herald Trainee, with the deep wounds from his Reaction Headache, and then the mysterious farmer with the unknown mind sickness.
It was enough to make Y'von want to curl up and sleep forever.
But her Healer nature kept her from doing any such thing. She had a lot to think about, even if the day was over.
The puzzling Trainee Neoka, for one. He was quiet, polite, and didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to get away from the Healer's Wing. It was very much unlike every other Trainee she had ever Healed.
Add that to the Heralds that seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, and Y'von was more then suspicious. She was down right wary of finding out anything about Neoka, afraid she would never see the quiet child in the same light again.
Y'von always assumed the best of people, even those that had killed openly in front of her. She was too much of an Empath, and had seemingly always been so, that it was too late to change her ways. She never liked knowing a person too well, or her frail dream of everyone having good intentions would undoubtedly shatter, and even though she was consciously aware of this fault of hers, she didn't want to change it.
Neoka seemed almost like the person who could shatter this outlook on life. There was something in his gaze, in his very voice, that made everyone on edge. He wasn't exactly cold, but he certainly wasn't open and warm.
Y'von didn't know what to think of him. Cold people were usually hiding something, and that often went with the open, warm people as well. Both parties concealed something; they were just different in their tactics of hiding.
Neoka belonged to neither cold, nor warm. He answered questions with just enough information to satisfy, never looked upon someone with anything less then a cool observation-gaze, and at the same time didn't seem to be hiding anything at all.
Y'von was sure that if she asked the right questions she would know everything there was to know about him, but she was discouraged by such questions from everything he represented.
She was held back by the learned method of not asking a Herald how he had gotten his wounds, her own nature of assuming the best, and Neoka's own mysterious way of daunting any relative inquiries.
It seemed almost subconscious of him to do so, making the matter even more confusing.
Before she could bury herself anymore, a knock on her door came. It was a rash, hard knock. Impatience evident.
Oh gods, not another problem . . .
"Come in." she called, keeping her depression out of her voice. The door opened, revealing none other then Herald Menith.
"Herald! What a pleasant surprise, come in please. Would you like something to drink?" she was getting up to find some drink, but Menith waved her down and shook his head.
"No, no thank you Y'von. Nothing to drink . . . I would like to talk." He seemed nervous about something. Y'von nodded, trying to give off a soothing aurora, and offered a seat next to her.
"What about Menith?" she asked as he sat. He took a moment, obviously thinking deeply, before turning his amber eyes on her.
"You had a patient come in today, a few beds away from the Trainee Neoka. What ails him?" Y'von was surprised. She had assumed Menith had come to discuss Neoka, but she was wrong.
"We . . . we're not sure. It's nothing physical, he's as strong as any farmer should be, it seems to be in his mind." She slowly traced small spirals on her green tunic, not meeting his eyes.
"In his mind?" he urged her forward. She nodded.
"Not any mind-sickness that we have ever come across. So far, there are only a few stricken with it, all on Valdemar's side of the border between us and Hardorn. Hann, the farmer, is the first, and has been sick for almost a month." She fell silent, the spirals becoming more elaborate.
"What causes it?" Menith asked. She shook her head.
"That's the thing . . . the family was questioned, they say nothing had been wrong with him before. It just came all of a sudden, no one knows how." She continued her swirls, after looking up at him for a moment, "He was just fine, and then, one day, he wouldn't wake up. There wasn't a fever, and he was still breathing, he just wouldn't wake up. Later on he started to get that pained expression, and he's been that way ever since. The family had the Herald on Sector Riding over there take him back here." Menith remained silent for a moment.
"What do you think is causing it?" Y'von halted in her spirals, glancing at him quickly.
She had a theory . . . but she hadn't told anyone yet, and it was probably less likely to be true.
"Well . . ." she smoothed her tunic and placed her hands upon her knee, "There is something blocking the King's Own Jhaspar, a Mind Healer, from getting in. No mind sickness can do that . . . I think it might have come from a Mage . . . over the border." She wasn't looking at him directly, but saw the quick movement of his hand. She should have known it would sound wrong aloud.
"A Mage-made sickness?" Menith asked finally, breaking the silence with a voice that almost trembled. Y'von nodded.
"But it is only a theory . . . I have no proof, other then Jhaspar not being able to help. He might know more then me about this whole thing."
"Or he might not." Menith said, sounding a little irritated, "But whatever the cause, you might want to know, he screams through his mind. Neoka can Hear it." He got up, seemingly to leave. Y'von stopped him with a frail hand upon his wrist.
"He . . . he can? I think Jhaspar might have said something about that . . . Menith, what is it about Neoka?" she asked abruptly, startling both herself and the Herald, "There's something . . . not quiet right about him."
Menith stayed silent and still, and Y'von was afraid she had angered him, but he answered after a moment.
"It's better that you not know." He said simply, and left.
Y'von gazed at the closed door.
Better for whom? Me, or Neoka . . . or you, Herald Menith?
***
Neo stirred, his eyes flickering open. It seemed he had just closed his eyes, but the window held only a bright moon and some stars, rather then the blinding afternoon sun.
He sat up and rubbed his head, looking immediately to his right.
The "screaming" man still lay there, and without the horde of Healers around him, Neoka got a good look.
From his clothes, he was a farmer, probably from the border. His face was drenched in sweat, and his matted brown hair wasn't longer then two inches.
Neo watched, and as he watched, he listened.
The jarring screams had lessened, becoming sort of like a muffled echo of what they had been. He silently thanked Menith for the Shields.
Please . . . make it stop . . . please, let me die!
Neoka almost jumped at the foreign thought. It had a bitter taste to it, something that made Neo want to cringe. It had come from the unconscious man.
It was worse then the screams. Pleads for death, coming rapidly and loudly, begin to make Neo's body shake.
"What . . . what can I do?" he whispered hoarsely to himself, his hand fisted against his sheets.
Please . . . PLEASE!
Neo almost screamed at the pain projecting from that last desperate plea, and without knowing what he was doing, without thinking about anything but stopping the man's suffering, he took hold of his own energy, and burned the blackness in the man's mind, until the power he held dwindled into nothing, and the black had been obliterated.
He shot back into his own mind and crumpled down upon the bed. He was going to pass out, he knew it. There was nothing left even to twitch a finger.
With a last, final exertion, he turned his head and looked at the man. No screams met his "ears", the farmer's face looked calm, and his chest was rising and falling normally.
Neo almost smiled in relief. The black-bitter taste in the air had vanished.
And then, because Neo could not and indeed would not, hold onto reality any longer, he slipped into a faint, face pale, and body limp.
Authors note: *pales* are all of this stories chapters going to be this long? I don't know about you, but these kind of chap's are going to make my fingers fall off! But, if it's any consolation, I'm really getting into this story . . .
Review, review, review!!! And tell me if you're getting into it as well!