Disclaimer - Valdemar, Heralds and Companions are the works of Mercedes Lackey, and remain her sole and personal property. Firechild Legacy is a derivative fanfiction work not intended for publication or profit. Kahlen belongs to me!

Profound thanks and kudos to engulfingdawn, Fireblade, Stee, tjal for reviews/encouragement on Ch. 5.

Revised Ch. 3 to match latest offering. And updated Kahlen's age to 16 seasons, vs. 12. She looks like mid-twenties. That's what happens when you grow up in a really rough neighborhood.

Chapter 7 – Ground and Center

"I'm sorry." Kahlen said uncertainly, taking in the startled faces around the table. "I didn't mean to frighten it." She closed her eyes, a slight frown of concentration on her face, and waited patiently. The blue light of the vrondi elemental slowly returned. "Es'tenada, meloren." She murmured. The words were gentle, like words spoken to a shy child. She raised a finger and a small, yellow light sprang up. The vrondi snuggled a bit closer, drinking the energy offered.

"You can see it?" Elspeth watched, amazed. Something about the girl's eyes, bent close to the elemental, unsettled her. Had the truthspell even worked?

"Always I see them." Kahlen replied softly, her hand dropping listlessly to the table. The small air element stirred, then abruptly left. "You asked of Gifts. That's one of them, if such a thing is counted among the Gifts here. To see the little elementals and… other beings from the ethereal planes. And to see the auras of those in this plane."

"Moved through Lord Orwen's weapons, you did." Alberich spoke slowly. "This I wish to see."

"Alberich, no." Jeri leaned forward. "You didn't see – she almost killed him. She couldn't -"

Kahlen raised a shaking hand. "Rand said – he said he could help me. To fight with – with discernment. And that I have to learn your ways, now." She drew an uneven breath. "Some gifts I know. Mind-speech, Mage-craft, and the fires..." She looked uncertainly at the gathered faces.

"There is also Foresight." Alberich leaned forward, catching her eye. "And I foresee an interesting time for you, young Kahlen." He caught the standing woman's eye, and nodded. "Go you to your classes, now. In the salle you will meet me, at the first bell following the mid-day meal. Then with young Josseran, to meet your mage instructor. Him you will tell what training you have had, that plan your lessons to match your requirements, he can."

Talia sat back as the girl slowly rose, her hand still touching the young woman's arm. "Kahlen. It will take time for you to be at ease here, to feel at home. Please believe me when I say you are home. You will have the time. Remember it, and come to me if you feel too uneasy, or simply need to talk."

Kahlen, hesitated, then gave Talia a shy nod and left the council chamber.

Selenay pushed away from the wall, and moved to take the empty seat. "Well, my friends." She spread her hands, palms up. "We have a new herald-mage. And apparently, a firestarter. I've also received reports from the healers that Kahlen healed remarkably well, given the severity of her burns – yet they take little credit for it. Kevren stated they did more good simple treating malnutrition and exhaustion. Kevren thought she might have the healing gift, but several of the senior healers tested her and found no sign of it. They're still looking for answers."

"Her hands." Evan murmured uneasily, and shifted in his seat. "Hardly any scarring. And I saw, when Ashton carried her up to the healers. Those burns were bone deep, Highness." He glanced solemnly at the others. "I've asked Dean Teren to recall Griffin from the field, to assist with her training." To Sejanes, "Herald Griffin's a firestarter, Master Sejanes."

Selenay nodded thoughtfully. She'd already thought of Griffin, the only other firestarter in the Circle, as a possible teacher for the girl.

The Queen turned to Alberich. "We've different a problem with Lord Orwen."

Alberich leaned back. "He has brought complaint against her?"

"No." Selenay rubbed her temples in exasperation. "He wants to spar with her. Idiot." And I need him on the Council, damn him, not risking his neck dealing with an unknown quantity. "Jeri. I understand he's been making himself useful in the salle, drilling the advanced student. Make sure the young fool doesn't break his neck. I'd appreciate keeping my councilors in one piece, if possible." The Queen's eyes went briefly to Alberich.

He nodded curtly. Lord Orwen could be kept busy enough to ensure the man did not get himself further embroiled. And Kahlen, he would test himself.

* * * * *

Kahlen made it back to the dining hall before dropping into a chair, shaking with reaction, then dropped her face into her hands. They didn't banish me. She thought numbly. No guards, even. How can they not -

:You are my Chosen.: Rand's voice brushed gently across her mind. :And you have half a bell to get ready for your next class.:

Chosen. She'd never really thought what it meant, only that she had Rand. A different kind of servitude, perhaps, but she'd owed these people. Yet how could they put their trust in someone who -

"Companions choose the heart, love. And we choose for the future, not the past. I trust you. The Heralds have accepted you, or will in time. Selenay trusts you.:

A future. She'd never really expected one, not since Sethren – she closed her eyes against that grief. And Rand – it made her warm just listening to him. Heart brother, indeed. She looked slowly, carefully around the dining hall. The trainees on duty were clearing up the last of the morning's fare. Two of them, younglings both, paused to smile at her. She returned the shy smiles, and felt something ease around her heart. A future. Abruptly she reached for the apple bowl, snagged two yellow orbs, blushed with red. By the time she reached the doors leading to the Field, she was flying.

* * * *

Rand watched in fascination from the back of Kalen's mind as she maneuvered for a better position. Orwen's sword, dancing slowly before her, failed to draw her eyes away from Jeri's sword as the weaponsmaster sought to draw her out. The woman swept her blade forward, moving sideways. Kahlen feinted to the right then lunged forward, just grazing the tip of Jeri's weapon, then lashed sideways with the practice weapon to score against Orwen's left side. The tumble continued, the girl rolling smoothly against the floor of the salle, rolling swiftly back to her feet, never pausing, one movement flowing into the next. She hit the wall with both feet and rebounded directly at Orwen, hands suddenly empty, reaching instead for his shoulders, grasping for anchorage, feet whipping forward as she pivoted, then brought them firmly into Jeri's back – but the weaponsmaster was no longer there.

The girl released Orwen, who was already turned, weapons moving in a arch. She landed hard, rolling, and came up with both her weapons unsheathed. :Stop, love.: Kahlen froze in position, then obediently grounded her weapons and dropped cross-legged to the floor, then simply fought to pull in enough air.

Lord Orwen dropped down beside her, breathing almost as hard. "All right?"

She nodded wordlessly, then slapped him on the shoulder. "You…getting faster." Her amethyst eyes went to the weaponsmaster, and a faint smile lit her face. "Almost…had you, Jeri."

"That you did, child." Jeri was panting, but that mad light was still in her eyes. Sparring with the girl went – beyond exhilarating, even with practice swords. Kahlen still shied away from practicing with live steel, but there was no question that she was able for it. Three months had wrought changes in the girl – all to the good, as far as the weaponsmaster was concerned. She smiled more, was more at her ease with the other trainees. She had several friends now, although young Joss seemed unusually close to her. Keren was satisfied with the girl's progress in equitation. Her weapons skill was oddly skewed to hand combat, though. She handled bows indifferently, though adequately. Right now the girl was soaked, though, and really needed to clean up before her next class. Jeri glanced at Alberich, who had watched quietly from a bench. The Senior weasponsmaster stood and came forward, his hand held down to the girl.

"Live steel." He said quietly. Kahlen's face went still. She'd learned to trust this quiet, scarred man, and had sparred with him several times. His speed did not quite match her own – but his experience far exceeded hers – and she was not ready for this. It didn't matter. He was the m'hada, or teacher, in this place. Alberich simply pulled her to her feet and waited quietly while she selected a light sword and dagger. When she reached for the box of blunted point guards, he shook his head. "Light armor only."

Jeri and Orwen moved to one side of the salle, Orwen's eyes alight with anticipation, Jeri's a trifle worried. Almost – she said something. Kahlen never saw the blow coming, only the sharp sting as the dagger was struck from her hand. Then she was stumbling back, fighting desperately to keep his blade away from her head, body, legs. No chance, here to take the initiative. She was tired and he was attacking as if – as if this were - :Chosen, no!:

Jeri saw it at once, the sudden shift in focus, the change from desperate defense to attack. She moved forward, panicking, but Orwen surged up and grabbed her arm, his face grim, his voice low. "Let the Herald work, Jeri, he knows what he's doing." He'd better know.

Kahlen ignored the voice in her mind. This was death, on the blade facing her. Death, and something else. The Herald. Facing her. Heart brother, and M'hada. Yet she had killed them before, her heart brothers. This is Alberich.- my teacher. What matter? the cold voice in her head answered. She had killed a teacher, too, and with savage joy. My brother. I …am …not.

She pulled back, then threw herself backwards, casting her sword out of range, hands extended, fingers arched…. and the Alberich's sword clanged and broke against the curved, glowing shield that sprang up around her.

Alberich was sweating, but far from exhausted. Jeri went forward quickly, not quite touching the shield. "Kahlen!"

"I'm…well enough, M'hada." Kahlen knelt shakily on the salle floor, then glanced swiftly at the shield. "Don't touch it!" Quickly, she extended both hands, feeling cautiously for the power pattern, and carefully dissolved the structure.

"You don't complain, that pushed you beyond all good sense, I have?" Alberich queried her.

Kahlen shook her head, mute.

"Then perchance to clean up in the salle's washroom, Weaponsmaster?" He glanced at Jeri for permission, who nodded. "Before to your next class you go."

Kahlen nodded and climbed slowly to her feet, then scooped up her sword and racked it before heading for Jeri's quarters, the woman beside her. Jeri's face was livid – she'd have words for him later, he was sure.

"Herald Alberich." Lord Orwen glanced after the two women, uncertain of what he'd just seen. "The girl is good, but still – she's only first year. You could have -"

"First year she most certainly is not." Alberich said quietly. "Save for lacking classroom lessons, in Whites I would place her. Another matter, that is. As for her weapon craft - you will not spar with her, Lord Orwen, unless Jeri or I are here." He did not like the angry flush on the young Lord's face. "Too good you are, Orwen. Trained to kill, she had been. Conditioned to it." He gestured to the empty salle. "She did not shield against me for herself – but for my sake. Caught off guard, or in battle heat -" He shook his head. "Selenay cannot spare you, Orwen. Too few men of sense, on the Council." The younger man relaxed a trifle.

"No sparring, then, save by your leave – or Jeri's." He conceded, then smiled. "She's fair game off the salle floor, though."

Alberich hesitated, frowning. "Noble born she is not, Orwen, nor of Valdemar. She does not know the game. Do not think of dalliance. She is not for your… entertainment."

Orwen's face grew dark. "I am head of my house." He snapped. "I don't need permission, save the Queen's, to make alliance where I choose. And Herald's Whites carry enough rank. As for wealth… " his anger faded, to be replaced by speculation. "She's mage-gifted. Dowry enough, should it breed true, don't you think?" He strode out then, leaving the Queen's Intelligencer, for once, at a complete loss for words.

* * * * *

Kahlen arrived late at her next class, panting heavily from the run up the hill. Josseran caught up with her half-way there.

"Darkwind said he'd be late – some kind of embassy arrived this afternoon. We have some time yet." She nodded gratefully to the boy, then pulled an apple from her book bag and offered him half. The boy smiled, then bit into his share with every evidence of enjoyment. They paced themselves up the hill, where three other students were waiting. Two were herald-trainees, and one was in the dark orange robes of a mage-trainee.

Kahlen looked them over and sighed. She was eldest, it seemed, and due for a spot of child minding.

"We have some time yet, before the M'hada can join us." Joss grinned. He'd picked up a smattering of her home tongue, in those interminable three days they'd been trapped together within her shields. He knew, at least, that M'hada meant 'honored teacher.'

"Some basics, perhaps?" At their chorused groans, she grinned, assumed a stern expression, and pointed. "Joss. Ground and center." He flashed her a cheerful smile, then did so. She "bumped" him, felt the boy's shields shift a bit, then settle firmly. "Excellent. Now you, Julia." The girl followed suit, chewing her lip in concentration. Meric and Donan managed in turn, then all looked at her expectantly. Sighing, she grounded and centered herself, as Darkwind had taught her, and let them batter against her shields, trying to off balance her.

She'd argued with Darkwind about it for days, trying to explain. Her training had been different. She'd finally given up trying to explain that she'd been trained otherwise, that her instructors had insisted she ground… elsewhere. But he was kind, and competent, and she'd managed to master the earth grounding.

Julia and Meric were still tapping at her shields, but Joss' and Donan's had turned away, staring up with growing apprehension. She turned, stiffened, and threw up a shield enclosing all the children. Joss yelped in surprise, but quickly gathered the others away from the walls.

I left my weapons in the salle. Kahlen ran away from the shield, trying to watch ground and the creature dropping swiftly toward her.

"Kahlen, don't!"

That shrill cry penetrated. She glanced uncertainly at Joss, then dropped into a defensive position, hands raised, as the creature landed in a maelstrom of dust and debris, ruffled it's massive wings, and regarded her curiously.

"Wellll, my dearrrr." It said in strangely accented Valdemaran. "Darkwind asked me to supervise today's lessssonn, as he has been detained." The head towered several feet above her shoulder. Bronze feathers shifted gently in the breeze cresting the hill, Kahlen stared, mesmerized, into the huge, dark eyes brimming with intelligence and good humor. "I am Treyvan, envoy for k'Lesha, and I will be your teacher for this lesson."

Kahlen moved a trifle closer. "You're – you're not – who made you, sir."

The wings lifted a trifle. "The great Urtho. He made the gryphons, the kyree, the hertasi – many others." The large, raptor's head cocked sideways, studying her closely. "And who made you, little one?"

"The I'nadazi, Soren." She answered softly. "But I look to Valdemar now."

"Then we are well met, child. Tell me, now, what you have learned."

Please! Please R&R! Too short? To many transitions?