Gambit of the Gods Page 7

  Maybe Berit is her pawn. Far more likely though, she’s Chosen one of the High Elders. With just a word from any of them, Jaereth and Kisto could be hanged before they could spit, and none would dare protest.

  I sense Kisto’s anger, but I know he won’t strike the boy. Kisto loves him as much as I do, maybe more. He’s never raised a hand to him. It might have have been better if he had, truth be told. Jaereth has grown into a headstrong young man. But I can’t judge Kisto for falling under his spell. There’s just something special about him. Everyone near him can feel it.

  I sense the tension in the room, feeling the two strong wills of these men press against each other, searching for a weakness. Then Kisto unexpectedly laughs, going back to choosing tools for his workbag.

  “You look like you just swallowed a lizard and you’re fighting to keep its tail behind your teeth,” he says with studied seriousness. Jaereth erupts in helpless laughter, Kisto joining in with his dry chuckles. Just like that, the strain between them is gone.

  Sera appears beside me.

  “It’s time.”

  We travel to the door to Kella’s room together.

  Sera is all business now as she walks into Kella’s bedchamber. I follow close behind her, readying my mind for what we must do next.

  The light from the full moon cradles the right side of Kella’s face, casting her left cheek into shadow. She looks much younger while sleeping, innocent and vulnerable. Her pulse flutters almost imperceptibly at the hollow of her neck.

  Sera steps into her. I walk forward until I’m wading into her midsection. This means my aura is touching Sera’s, but she’s too busy concentrating to react negatively again.

  Our minds touch, sharing an image of a storm blowing into the Queensrealm. A mighty gale, guided by a shining Goddess’s hand. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as it rushes over forests and fields. As it travels, it mellows slightly, becoming a strong wind that ruffles the surface of rivers and lakes before reaching House Klia. Once there, it finds Kella’s spirit standing in her dream state by the manse’s tall front doors.

  But a dark shadow detaches itself from a stand of trees to her right and comes toward her, full of palpable menace. The wind, glowing with the warm green light of the Goddess, envelopes Kella protectively and shoots out from her belly. Like a loosed arrow it arcs toward the shadow, blowing it against the trees, where it shatters into nothing. The wind returns to Kella, retreating back into her, leaving a small silver circle just above her navel to mark its passage.

  Kella startles awake and sits up, pushing her hair back from her eyes with trembling hands. I step away, but Sera stays with her. Slowly, as if sleepwalking, Kella gets out of bed. She walks over to her mirror, which is dimly lit by the moonlight. Pulling the ties at the neck of her nightdress, she teases the slit in the front open to catch a glimpse of her belly.

  It’s there, softly gleaming in the moonlight—the same tiny silver mark we planted in her dream. She gasps, staring at the little silver star in shock for a long moment. Sera works within her mind with feelings of rightness, acceptance, and Goddess-centered awe. At last, Kella pulls her nightdress closed and stumbles back to her bed. In moments, she falls asleep.

  Sera steps out of her, sending me a tendril of pure gratitude. Standing in front of the moonlit window, her shadowy form is outlined in silver and lit from within with a lustrous radiance. She looks like an angel, visiting the bedside of a child to call blessings down upon her from on high. How fitting, I muse—Sera is the closest thing to being Kella’s guardian angel as we will see, this side of heaven.

  There follows a brief, awkward silence.

  “That seemed to go well,” I venture at last.

  Sera smiles, her dimples flashing adorably. I feel her relief: she’s done what she can to protect her Chosen. Now I need to decide how best to protect mine.

  “Let me know when you decide what ability to give Jaereth. I’ll be glad to help you as you’ve so kindly helped me.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  Back at Kisto and Jaereth’s cottage, I stand looking up at the stars once again, deep in thought. What ability should I give Jaereth? How can I give him a fighting chance? And how can I win Sera over, now that she’s caught my heart?

  Chapter 6: Artan

  I watch in silence as Little Squirrel leaves the hut, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. My heart thumps painfully in my chest as if fighting to leap out and run after her.

  “We can’t let her go!”

  Father just looks at me with understanding and pity in his eyes. Only he knows my true feelings for Little Squirrel. I’ve loved her since the first moment I laid eyes on her. At first, I embraced her as my sister, but I feel much more than that now.

  I’ve watched her grow into a beautiful, strong, intelligent girl. She’s a devoted daughter and sister who would fight to the death for those she loves. She’s had more than her fair share of sorrows: never knowing the love of a mother; living as a social outcast from the Clans because of her Outsider blood, yet longing to be accepted by them; dealing with her emotionally distant father, Thunder Echo. But she bears it all with grace and humor, her spirit a beautiful light in this dark world.

  I don’t know if my feelings for Little Squirrel are made stronger by the very hopelessness of knowing I’ll never win her heart. I’m not Clan and never can be, no matter how long I live among the People. I can’t Change shape to run with her in the cool of the evening under the trees, catching and holding her close in the moonlight. All I know is that I love her, that I long for her…and that she’ll never see me the same way.

  It’s small enough comfort to know my rival for her affections, Spark, can probably never have her either. He’s of a different Clan, and she sees him as a friend, not as a lover. Still, it’s hard for me to see him always at her heels, watch them sneak off into the forest together, or find them laughing at some shared joke. I try joining in sometimes, but I feel like I’m just in the way. Spark has made it clear he doesn’t want me around.

  Yet some part of me still hopes. Maybe she’ll come back from her Quest unChanged. I hardly dare to hope so, since I know how much being Clan means to Little Squirrel. But I can’t help it.

  And on rare occasions, I have dreams. I don’t know if they’re prophetic dreams, like my father’s, or not, but they feel different somehow; more real. In all of them, I see Little Squirrel standing beside me in a lovely blue dress, her hair done up and a joyous smile on her face, reaching for my hand…

  Father’s voice startles me out of my reverie.

  “Don’t worry, son. I have a plan. You might not like part of it, but I believe it’s the only way to protect her.”

  “I’ll do whatever I must, to save her,” I vow without hesitation. He knows it’s true.

  “We know from my dream that I can’t be there on her Quest to protect her,” he continues, once again seating himself at the table. I sit down too, nodding seriously. “But I see no reason why you and Spark can’t follow her.”

  At the mention of Spark’s name, I get a sour taste in my mouth, but I swallow resolutely. Two are always better than one. I know Spark would do anything to save her, just as I would. How can I deny him that chance? How can I refuse any chance that betters the odds in Little Squirrel’s favor?

  “But who would want to harm her?” I know love blinds me, but I can’t imagine not loving her.

  “God hasn’t shown me. Remember my lessons in self-defense. The Clans may scoff at our methods, but we’ve spent centuries perfecting them. They will serve you well.”

  When he rises from his chair, I do as well. He hugs me, then pushes me gently toward the door.

  “Go talk with Spark. Go with God, my son. Protect her well.”

  I recognize the fear and helplessness in his eyes. Thanking our God that at least I can take action on her behalf, I throw back the door flap, stepping out into daylight.

  I soon learn that Spark has left the village for the
day. I decide to take a walk in the forest while I wait for him so that I can sort my feelings. Before I know it, I find myself thinking back to our lives before Little Squirrel, her early years, and the other time she was in danger.

  A few moon cycles before Little Squirrel (or Asha, as my father named her) came to live with us, my mother, Tiana, fell from her horse and died. Father can heal almost any wound, but even he has never been able to heal death. He’d loved my mother with all his heart. With her death, he became a broken shadow of himself.

  Being able to save others’ loved ones but not his own haunted him almost to the point of madness. Worse, he began to doubt God’s goodness and considered ending his own life. He admitted that knowing I needed him was the one thing that kept him going. That changed when he had the vision about the Queensrealm Lady and the child she carried within her.

  Sometimes true dreams are useful, like when our neighbor’s house caught on fire and Father saw it in time to extinguish the flames. Other times, they’re merely frustrating, or even heartbreaking, like the time he saw a small child who had wandered into the forest, crossing the path of a bear just moments before the vision ended in tragedy. The latter is why he calls them more curse than blessing.

  Yet when he glimpsed the Queensrealm Lady and her unborn child in his dreams, the emotions that came with the vision were of hope, love, and a deep peace. He knew somehow that the hope he felt was because of the child. It was a promise not just to him, but to everyone her life would touch. This knowledge began to clear away the darkness that had taken up residence in his heart since Mother’s death.

  When Father first showed her to me, it was like my spirit recognized hers somehow. Ever since that moment, my heart has belonged to her.

  Each year found my heart-sister growing more beautiful, with a charm, intelligence and sensitivity rivaling her outer beauty. Asha (our name for her before the Elders renamed her Little Squirrel) was kind and thoughtful, always ready with a trilling laugh for everyone, always more worried about others than about herself. She was my father’s delight, and my joy.

  Father made me promise to keep watch over her when we went outside to play. But he needn’t have bothered. I was always aware of her no matter what I was doing. As she grew older, I learned to indulge her naturally independent spirit, letting her think she was going off alone. But I was never far away.

  Asha has always been drawn to animals more than to people. The goose that chased everyone else let her feed it bread she’d hidden in her pocket when she thought we weren’t looking. The crumbs left in her pocket, she gave to the ducks at the pond near our house. The dog that barked at or bit others let her pet him. Horses in the pastures flocked to the fence to have their noses rubbed when they caught sight of her. All animals seemed to crave her touch.

  Father, as one of the best healers in Civitas Dei, often received patients in our home who were very ill or gravely injured. As with the animals, Asha’s gentle, caring demeanor and soothing voice immediately eased them somehow. He liked to call her his apprentice, often letting her do most of the talking while he stirred up his salves, tinctures, herbs and ointments. Some, he found, just needed a listening, sympathetic ear. After talking with Asha, they always left our home with a renewed spirit.

  One morning when she was five, just a few moonturns before Thunder Echo arrived to ask her to come home with him, she left the house early with her pockets full of bread crumbs for the ducks. I didn’t hear her leave, and Father had gone into town to trade for that night’s supper. When I realized she was gone, I began to search for her.

  Father was crossing the road into the marketplace when he had a flash of premonition. He saw Asha lean over to pet some newborn ducklings, lose her balance, and fall into the pond. She didn’t know how to swim. Pausing in shock in the middle of the roadway, he was nearly run down by a man on horseback. Father turned and ran as fast as he could, terror pulsing through him. The thought that once again he wouldn’t get there in time, that another person he loved would die, was more than he could bear.

  Luckily, I caught up with Asha just in time to see her fall in, though from a distance. I sprinted to the pond’s edge and jumped in. Her skirts had gotten quickly tangled up with her kicking boots, pulling her down. I grabbed her still, small form and dragged her out of the water.

  She wasn’t breathing. My own breath trapped in my throat, I shook her as if maybe she were just sleeping.

  “Asha! Asha! I’m here now! Wake up!” I cried. I didn’t know what else to do. She just lay there, unmoving, her skin pale against her long, dark hair. I shook her again, but she flopped in my arms like one of her rag dolls, then lay still again. I sat there, staring at her face, willing her to open her eyes and take a breath. It was such a helpless feeling. I had failed my father, and her.

  Suddenly I noticed water dribbling out from the corners of her mouth. I turned her on her side, in hopes of getting more water out.

  “Please, Asha,” I begged her, sobbing. “Please don’t go. I’m so sorry. Please.”

  She coughed weakly, and water came pouring out of her mouth. I collapsed beside her, sobbing in relief. She began to cry because I was crying, and clung to me. That was how Father found us.

  We nearly lost her that day. Ever since then, my main purpose has been to protect her at any cost. She is more precious to me than my own life.

  As I’ve walked, morning has melted into late afternoon. My affinity for green, growing things and the peace I feel wandering among the trees always makes me lose track of time. But I have one other reason to go off alone in the forest today, if I’m honest with myself. I know where Little Squirrel goes to bathe after visiting the Purification Hut, and I want to make sure she’s safe.

  Soon I hear the river and slow as if stalking prey. I can walk almost as silently as any Clan hunter, though the sound of the water covers any missteps. Kneeling behind a tree and peeking carefully around it, I see her, just a stone’s throw away.

  She reminds me of a graceful doe as she wades naked in the water, her wet hair trailing down her slim back in a sleek, dark ribbon. Her lips are curved in a secret smile, her fingertips trailing in the water beside her thighs. Her small breasts look as fresh and innocent as two sleeping fawns. I know I should look away, but find that I can’t. Her beauty has overcome my reason.

  She steps out of the river, water streaming in tiny rivulets down her lovely legs. Choosing a large rock in a patch of sunlight, she lies down on it to sun herself and dry off. I swallow hard at the sight of her, stretched out on her back with the sunlight cradling her. Again, I wonder who would ever want to hurt her, and vow to protect her with my life.

  But I dare not linger here too long. With a sigh, I stand up behind the tree and walk away, cherishing the memory of her loveliness in my heart.

  Chapter 7: Jacob

  My mother, Gideon, and I follow Artan as he walks away from the river and Little Squirrel.

  I selected Artan as my Chosen because Gideon has become like a father to me and Miklos was his Chosen. We like to spend time together. My mother Chose Little Squirrel because her previous Chosen, Miklos’ wife Tiana, died just before Little Squirrel was born. Also, it hurt Mother’s heart that Little Squirrel’s mother had abandoned her, knowing her people would never accept how she’d been conceived. She explained, “Little Squirrel has no mother to watch over her, so I will.” When our trio of Chosen first joined the People, my sister Jade Chose Spark. He shares her dominant forces of Fire and Spirit. Though she’d never admit it, even to herself, Jade is in love with him. She’s with him now on his first hunt.

  I’ve grown very attached to Artan, more so than to any other person I’ve Chosen. We have a lot in common. We’re both a little shy and serious. We both possess the dominant forces of Earth and Life. We both love books and plants. And we both love Little Squirrel.

  Artan’s love for her is almost as hopeless as my own. He can never be Clan, but at least he can laugh with her. At least he knows what it’s
like for her to look at him with a smile meant for him alone. At least he can touch her. She will never even know I exist. She’ll mate, bear children, grow old, and die while I stand by, invisible. Yet I can’t regret loving her. With our bodies and lives gone, love is one of the only things that still makes us human. It gives us our only hope and purpose.

  It’s been especially hard for me and Jade since we were Transformed as children. We will never be able to “grow up” physically, fall in love, or have children of our own. For all I know, I’ll forever be trapped in my fifteen-year-old spirit-body. Yet even though my mind has matured over the decades since that fateful day in the Lab, the others look at me and see a boy still. It’s frustrating to have to remind them that I’ve existed long enough to be a man thrice over. But at the same time, I’ve never even kissed a girl. Only Jade understands how this feels, and we’ve become close because of it.

  We’ve had a day to mull over Malyse’s treacherous announcement and consider the possibilities. Truth be told, Gideon, Jade and I have always wanted to bestow extra abilities upon our Chosen. I wanted to give Artan the ability to Change into whichever Spirit Animal Little Squirrel receives so he can have the chance to win her heart. But Mother has always held us back. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She loves Little Squirrel like a daughter, and loves Artan, Miklos, and Spark almost as much. But she worried that extra abilities would arouse the superstitious nature of the People against our Chosen.

  Only now, we have no choice.

  Watching Artan walk through the forest ahead of us, I feel almost a desperate need to protect him. He’s like my brother, my son, and my other ‘self’, all in one. I’ve watched over him from the moment of his birth. If he or Little Squirrel die, an important part of me will die with them. We need to help them survive what’s coming, but we can’t even warn them.

  “So you think it would be best if this new ability somehow reflects who he is.”