Chapter 1
"Morna!"
"Mama! Mama!"
"Morna, come back here!"
Ancar's soldiers had started to burn the village by now. All Desidra was interested in was finding her last surviving child and running to safety. All the other villagers were running, screaming and dying around them. Desi knew she did not have much time to save her child and threw all the energy she could into her legs, hoping to reach Morna before the soldiers came and killed her last child. The little girl had stopped by the village well, tears sliding down her grubby cheeks, her hands clasped to her mouth where she chewed nervously on a small fist.
"Morna, baby, come here! Now!"
Morna stood, frozen, wanting desperately to run to her mother, but could not. Her fear stopped her every time she tried to run forward. The entire village was aflame now, burning with a roar that sucked the oxygen out of the air and a heat the crisped any exposed skin. Her tears evaporated before they could slide more than halfway down her cheeks.
Desi was almost to her baby girl when the soldier cut her down from behind. She tried to continue forward, desperate to save her daughter, but found she could no longer move her legs. The soldier was striding toward Morna now and Desi screamed in desperation, begging Morna to move, begging the gods for help. As she was beginning to fade, help arrived in the form of a white blur with four slashing hooves. The Companion reared in front of Morna and came down on the soldier, turning him into a red mush that was quickly churned into the mud. As the last breath flew from her body, Desi watched as her daughter somehow scrambled on the back of the Companion, was carried away to a fate just a perilous as before.
:Incoming!:
Kantor's yell jerked Alberich's attention away from his trainees, who were currently engaged in a rousing game of Hurlee, which Alberich had resurrected for skirmish training. Before he could even think of reacting, Kantor was at his side, slowing enough for Alberich to mount on the fly, then galloping off again. The trainees, drilled well, automatically took off to the trees on their Companions, scattering in predetermined directions and heading back for the village.
:What is it?:
: Ceridwyn is back.:
:Choose, she did?:
:Yes.:
Kantor broke off as Ceridwyn came into view. Alberich strained his eyesight to the limits, but he could not see her new Chosen. She had slowed from her ground-eating trot to a gentle walk, doing her best to avoid rough spots in the terrain. His heart sank. Alberich was intimately familiar with the pace Ceridwyn was using now. He had seen it so many times in the past few years. It was the pace a Companion used to avoid jarring an injured rider.
:Not again…:
Alberich was not sure who had spoken, and at the moment he did not care. Kantor sidled up to Ceridwyn and Alberich received his first look at the newest of the Heraldic trainees.
:By the Bright One, but a baby, she is.:
:Four or five, Ceri says.:
:Why so young? Never this young, Chosen are. Even now.:
He would have mistaken the bundle to be a cloak if he had not been told it was a child. The little girl was unconscious, and, when Alberich gently lifted her in his arms, he discovered her to be barely breathing. Her tiny body was covered in burns that made his scars ache in sympathy. She was a beautiful little girl under the burns, but he had no doubt that her beauty would be tempered by scarring much like his own. What was left of her hair was rich, dark brown and her unburned skin was of a copper coloring that he imagined was much liked the fabled Shin'a'in. The child whimpered weakly has he tucked her in closer and wrapped his cloak around her, hoping to protect her burns from even more contamination.
:Easy, childling: he whispered in her mind. Much to his surprise, she weakly responded.
:Papa?:
He did not know how to respond to that, so he avoided the question entirely. If she believed him to be her father at the moment, then it would ease her fear and would only help. :You are safe. Rest.:
Her small hands clenched in his leathers, and he winced in sympathy as burned skin sloughed off. Alberich wanted to make her let go in order to protect her skin from any more damage, but knew making her let go would just hurt her even more. The little girl's body went completely limp against him and Kantor took advantage of her relapse into unconsciousness to surge forward into a cantor, hoping to get her to the Healers before she gave in and flew to the Havens.
"What have you got for us, Alberich?"
Devan strode briskly into the room behind Alberich and went straight to the bowl and pitcher against the far wall to wash his hands. The room was a far cry from the easily cleaned and highly sanitary rooms of the Healers' Collegium. Like all tree-huts, the room was round, but, unlike the other huts, this room had no windows. Since glass was nonexistent, windows were usually holes with furs and tree branches to cover them. As this was exactly the wrong thing to have in a sickroom, the Healers had avoided them. Instead, they had colonized a type of glowing moss to grow on one wall of the sickroom. As the moss happened to have pesticidic properties, the Healers had seen no reason to discourage it when it had initially started growing in the huts. When it was later discovered to sweeten the air and provide light, as well as not introduce new germs in the atmosphere, the Healers had praised it as a miracle and attributed to the strange goings-on of the Sorrows.
The bed was merely a well-padded pile of furs in a bed-box of rough construction. Standing around the room, along the curving wooden walls, was a washstand and cabinets containing supplies gathered and gleaned over the years. It was at times like this that Alberich sorely missed the well-supplied Collegium, especially the lambs-wool padding for the burn patients. Healing the little girl would be hard enough at the Collegium. Here, it was going to be a daunting challenge that would require all the strength and ingenuity they had to spare.
The Healer's robes were no longer the crisp, professional Greens that all Healers had previously worn. It was dangerous for the people of Valdemar to trade with Heralds, so Heralds did not endanger their lives any more than needed. Instead, they hunted in the Sorrows and tanned hides to make leathers for their clothes. Whites were tucked away for the vague future in which Heralds would ride back into Haven and would need to be recognized. For now, everyone wore highly practical and easy to disguise leathers.
"A new Trainee. Badly burned, she is."
"Let's take a look."
Alberich had perched on the edge of the bed, knowing the chances of getting the little girl to let go of him anytime soon were slim. Devan pulled back Alberich's cloak and hissed at the sight of her wounds.
"We'll need more Healers, not to mention a mind-Healer to see if we can't get her to let go. I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Alberich. You're going to be here awhile."
Not finding a reason to argue with him, Alberich merely leaned back against the wall, making sure the little girl was as comfortable as possible, and began the waiting game.
Several marks later, Alberich was heartily tired of Healers and the little girl had yet to let go, in spite of all their efforts. He was still fighting the sneaking suspicion that he was going to become the child's "protector" as it were. Most of the younglings had attached themselves to a Herald and looked to them as a parental figure. This little girl was obviously meant to be his, even if his mind was fighting with the concept. As soon as they get her to let go, I can go get some sleep. I will see her when she heals and begins training. That is it.
Devan finally leaned back with a sigh and rubbed his aching back. His face was pinched and gray with exhaustion, and his hands shook as he gently stroked the remaining locks of the little girl's hair away from her bandaged face. Alberich's vague memories of his own experiences in the Healers' hands lent him an all too realistic idea of what the little girl would be going through in the next few weeks. Devan had concentrated his energy and the energy of the other Healers on the worst of the burns but they still had a long way to go.
"All right." Devan's voice dragged Alberich back to the present. "Let us see if you can beat this, Morna, my girl." They had learned her name when the Mind-Healer had tried to convince her earlier to let go. Devan carefully placed his hand on her forehead and frowned in concentration. Abruptly her hands relaxed and the larger, gentle hands of the Healers all reached down at once to pick her up. Alberich rolled off the bed and they laid her back down while still other Healers quickly poulticed her hands. Devan allowed his concentration to relax and Morna's little hands clamped back down, this time on the poultices.
Alberich stood beside the bed and stretched out stiff muscles as he watched the Healers finish fussing over her, arranging blankets and medicines just so.
"What did you do?"
"Hm?" Devan looked up from his frowning contemplation of the tiny figure on the bed. "Oh, I used my Gift to force her muscles to relax. I would rather not resort to that, as it would have been better for her to realize she was in a safe place and did not need to cling, but it was necessary."
The other Healers finished cleaning up and quietly left the room, leaving Devan and Alberich with Morna. Alberich shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, rubbing a shoulder, then scratching his neck, all things he had wanted to do for the past hours. Then he broke down and asked the question that had been plaguing him.
"Will she live?"
"Oh, yes. With a will like that, it would be impossible not to. It will be hard for the next few weeks, but I am betting on her. She'll have scars though. Not as bad as yours, but they will be there."
"Get me, you will, if she wakes up?"
Devan smiled gently, recognizing the conflict in the quiet warrior. "You will be the first to know."
Alberich nodded decisively. "Good." Then he strode out the door, forcing himself to not look back.
"Alberich, wake up."
The hand on his shoulder startled him and he automatically reached for his sword, surprised someone had come so close as to touch him without waking him up.
"Whoa, easy."
The figure jumped back out of range of Alberich's sword, carefully avoiding the sleeping bodies of trainees. Every Heraldic teacher lived in a large hut with a handful of Trainees, keeping an every present and watchful eye on the students. The Trainees were considered far more precious than any commodity or fully trained Herald. They were the people who would carry on the mission and so were protected at any cost and were under constant supervision. All the students in any one particular hut were year mates, and they all lived with the same Herald throughout their training. The group living with Alberich was the Trainees that arrived last year, currently ranging in age from ten through thirteen. It was a relatively large class of twelve students and so they had commandeered the largest hut. It was comfortably cluttered with beds, clothes, weapons and brightly colored hangings and pillows. While the outside of the huts must blend in with the forest around them, the insides could be as wild as the occupant. This class had gone wild with the decorating. In full sunlight the results often made Alberich's eyes hurt.
Leathers had been dyed and painted to depict dramatic scenes from their favorite tales, most of which they had learned from each other and Alberich. The hut was a cultural mixing ground with something contributed by every Chosen. The crowning glory was a quilt made from clothing they had outgrown. It was unfinished, as they added to it every time they outgrew some clothes. The center was a riot of colors, but the outer edges were the muted leathers they had grown into. The Trainees kept it up with the idea of using it as a timeline of their lives, hoping to one day finish it with a white border. What touched Alberich about the quilt was the centermost panel. It appeared brown at first glance, but closer inspection showed it was made from blood spattered Whites. They were Alberich's, from Soulkiller. The Trainees believed it was their start, so they started the quilt with it.
"Alberich?"
The nighttime visitor dragged his attention back to current events and he took himself sternly to task for allowing himself to drift. He was now recognizing Skiff in the darkness and he allowed his sword to droop back down. The thief was thin now, made gaunt from his grief over the death of Talia and Dirk as well as the hardships they had all faced in the past years.
"What is wrong?"
"It's Morna."
Alberich immediately rolled out of his pile of furs and began pulling on boots. Skiff moved further out of the way and continued speaking.
"She's having some kind of night-terror. The Healers can't get her to calm down. They're hoping your presence will bring her out of it."
"Then with her, I shall be."
He rose, strapping on his sword belt and striding soundlessly from the hut onto the landing, then turned back to Skiff. "Stay with the younglings, you will? Their own nightmares, they have. They need someone to be with them when they awake."
Skiff nodded wordlessly before ducking back into the hut. Alberich hurried along bridges, being sure to not rustle any branches and disturb the light sleepers of the village as he passed. The Healers Collegium was not far away. Both the Healers and the Trainees were located in the center of the village for maximum protection. He could hear Morna's screams even before he could see the hut they were keeping her in.
Alberich pushed through the double sets of furs and branches covering the doorway to keep the glow of the moss inside the hut and not reveal the location of the hut. The Healers were standing by the bed helplessly as the tiny figure thrashed, knowing restraining her would only hurt her more. Myrium, the Mind-Healer, was seated on the side of the bed, sweat running down her face as she frowned in concentration. She broke her trance when she sensed Alberich entering the room.
"She is dreaming and she is terrified." Her quiet, husky voice penetrated Morna's screams better than a parade ground below. "I cannot get her wake up and I cannot ease her fears. You try." She grabbed his hand and drew him to the side of the bed, then pushed him down. "She is attached to you, believes you will keep her safe. She needs you to slay her monsters before she can rest."
Alberich regarded Morna, feeling just as helpless as the Healers must have felt. He had no idea of what to do.
:Do what Myrium says to do. Slay her monsters.: Kantor's voice was calming in the back of his mind.
:How do I do that?:
:Go in her mind and enter her dream. Slay her monsters.:
Alberich gave a mental shrug. :Worth a try, it is.: He dropped his shields and sank into Morna's mind. What he saw in there frightened even him. The attack of soldiers on a person's village was traumatic for an adult. Through the eyes of a four year old, it was a horrific event that nightmares were made of. The soldiers became creatures made of flame that killed anything they touched. Through her eyes, Alberich watched first her father die, then her siblings, then her mother. Only in this dream, Ceridwyn did not coming riding to the rescue. The soldiers continued to come after Morna, intent on killing her also. Before he knew what he was doing, Alberich's dreamself was striding forward, sword in hand. With one swing, the soldier was "dead". Realizing what Kantor had been talking about, Alberich grimly worked through her dream world, "killing" all the monsters her mind could come up with. By the end of the dream, he was exhausted and Morna's dreamself had been reattached to him.
When he opened his real eyes, Morna was clasped in his arms and only Devan remained in the room, tucked into a corner and watching him with level eyes. Alberich's arms were shaking from strain and his leathers were sweat drenched.
"Welcome back to the land of the waking."
Devan's voice brought him fully back to reality and he turned, trying to put Morna back down on the bed. His arms, however, seemed to be locked in position, unable to let her go.
"Perhaps, a good time this would be, for you to use that trick on me that you used on her." He indicated Morna with a nod of his head. Devan shook his head.
"I think Morna would be better off tonight if you slept with her. Your presence is what keeps her calm and I have the feeling I would have to wake you in a mark for another nightmare."
Alberich pondered that for a moment, then lay down on the bed, tucking Morna against his chest. Sleep was already pulling at him and he fought it for a moment. "Sleep here, I believe, a good idea would be." Then he stopped fighting and allowed exhaustion to pull him down.