Of Seekers and Shepherds: Children of the Younger God, Book One

by G. H. Duval

  Returning to her room after that day’s lessons, she’d needed the restorative powers of the pond and the comfort of her First, so she had fallen into the dream almost as soon as her eyes had closed. Siare’s hand rested gently against hers, and Mina smiled, turning to look at the woman who had come to mean so much to her in mere months.

  Mina froze.

  It was not Siare she found sitting next to her. Instead, a young girl—younger even than Mina—sat where Siare should be. She was slight, but with an unmistakable aura of fierceness. She was exceedingly pale, her cheeks brushed with the faintest of freckles, and her hair was a vibrant shade of red. It was plaited intricately and formed a crown about her head. The style and her piercing blue eyes named her plainly a child of Farkoast. Oddly, she wore Siare’s official gown of deep violet with the symbol of the Firsts over her right breast.

  Mina rose, dizzy and untethered, where she normally felt the safest. She glanced about and noted that Culari stood in a small stand of trees near the water; he was gazing at the girl adoringly. Mina called to him, and his eyes grudgingly moved from the girl. As his eyes found Mina’s, he bowed formally. “Headmistress. How may I serve?” he asked as he straightened.

  Headmistress? Mina looked about again, wondering if Mother Wilha had joined them—though she never had before—and realized with a start that she was no longer nude but clothed in the grey, shimmering robes that belonged solely to Mother Wilha. Mina studied her arms and hands; she was older, taller, the very texture of her skin had changed.

  What is happening? she thought, growing frantic.

  I am coming, the sure voice of Siare slid into her mind. Seek me, child, as you’ve been taught.

  Mina closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of her disrupted pond for another moment. She fell into the litany she had been taught, counting her breath and melting into her Aspect. She reached for Siare; her First swept into her mind like the sheer force of will she was, enveloping Mina at once and instantly returning the pond to what it should be.

  When Mina opened her eyes, she was once more in her normal body—nude, sitting on folded legs atop the slate ledge, facing Siare, who was similarly seated. Siare held both of Mina’s hands, calmly but firmly, and her smile was serenity personified.

  “That was remarkable, Mina.” She said, approval in every syllable. “Have you seen her before?”

  As was common with their mind-to-mind conversations, Mina sensed much more than the words conveyed, and she knew that dreaming of this Farkoasian girl was somehow a positive development.

  “She is real,” Mina whispered and knew it to be true as soon as the thought emerged.

  “No,” Mina added, answering Siare’s question. “I’ve not dreamed of her before. Who is she?”

  “I am to ask you that question, Mina.” Siare held her gaze. “She is not for me to know, dear one. She is your discovery. I cannot see her.”

  Mina shook her head, pulling her hands free and twining them anxiously. “How can that be,” she demanded of her First. “You see everything!”

  Siare laughed, and her total lack of concern finally broke through Mina’s consternation.

  “Even my gift has its limits. Those from other nations who are not subject to Hirute or to me, particularly when not within our lands, I cannot know fully as I do my own children. For some reason, Hirute has brought this one to you, and to you alone, dear one. And you must learn that His reasons are given to us as He sees fit.”

  Mina threw up her hands in exasperation. “First Mori, and now this girl!” And then it was there—suddenly and with no warning or effort on her part. Irdsil.

  “Her name is Irdsil,” she said, still irked. “Is this how it is for you? Hirute just…what? Drops knowledge into your mind? How can I know her name? I’ve never seen her before!”

  Siare pulled Mina’s hands back into her own.

  “Yes, dear one. It can often be just like that.” Siare’s voice dripped with approval. “It is happening already. We’ve only begun to heal you, and already your destiny comes thrusting forward! Mother will be so proud. I am so proud!”

  She rose and brought Mina with her. “Why don’t we wake and speak to Mother now? While it is fresh for both of us. I promise that afterward, I will ensure you get the sleep you deserve for all your excellent work today.”

  Mina nodded and woke in her bed. She barely had time to change back into her au L’espri uniform—the grey tunic and leggings marked with lavender at the wrists, belt, and hem—before Culari was at her door, ready to escort her to the chambers of the Firsts where Mother and Siare awaited her. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and slid her hand into his outstretched one. It seemed her work as Siare’s successor would begin much sooner than any of them had ever dreamed.

  *

  “A Farkoasian?”

  Mori’s voice was as incredulous as Mina had been, and his smooth, Kirin accent turned the word into Far-koh-shuhn. She liked the way it sounded. Mina had just taken a bite of porridge, savoring the cream, spices, and translucent raisins the cook had generously added to the standard fare, and nodded rather than try to speak.

  “I couldn’t believe it, either,” she added when she had swallowed. “I don’t know what to make of her at all. Mother Wilha and Siare think she may be like you. Now that we know it’s possible, she may be another non-Coerdan who is Aspect-touched and in need of aid. They think that may be why I’m being sent images of her.” She shrugged. “Mother Wilha contacted our Ambassador in Thella, and she will report if a girl matching the image and name Mother Wilha sent can be found.”

  Mina didn’t add that Mother Wilha and Siare had also decided an unofficial Seek would be conducted, and already, two au L’espris whom they trusted to be subtle had been dispatched to join Ambassador Serrin in the Farkoasian capital. Between the three, if Mina’s dream had been an actual sending from the Great Shepherd and there was a budding Spirit Shepherd in Farkoast, perhaps even a Candidate, they would find her.

  Mori was quiet, absorbing this. “What is she really like?” he asked, and it took a moment for Mina to realize he was not asking about the strange girl from her dream.

  “Mother Wilha? Or Siare?”

  Mori winced. “Must you refer to her that way? She is your Empress.” He was, in all things so far as she could tell, exceedingly proper. Mina marveled at her captivating friend, for while her initial reaction to him had tempered and was no longer so dramatic an affair, he impressed her anew, daily, nonetheless.

  It was more than his appearance, which was exotic, polished, and she had to admit, quite alluring. What impressed her most was his capacity to learn their Coerdan ways. There was so much he was asked to endure: new dress, new foods, new idioms—not to mention the countless vagaries of regional customs that were crammed together at the Steading. It was enough to make even Coerdan newcomers nervous and awkward, and for Mori, the effect must be tenfold.

  But he took it all in stride in his quiet, solemn way. He would watch her intensely, listening as if his life depended on what she spoke, and simply nod—doing his best to commit to memory what she taught him. Thus far, he did not need any of his lessons to be repeated.

  Now, she thought, if only I can teach him a sense of humor.

  “Mori,” Mina began, summoning all her patience. “She is the First Seer—a Shepherd. Not an Empress. We don’t have that here, you must remember.” This was a point on which he had proved irritatingly intractable.

  “Siare is her name, and as much time as we spend in one another’s minds, it is not disrespectful of me to use it. She does not refer to me as ‘the Candidate’ I might point out.”

  He mumbled something and took a bite of his own breakfast, which consisted solely of black currant tea and a small bit of fresh fruit. His Kirin tastes would simply not allow for the richness of the typical Coerdan breakfast.

  She was about to ask him to repeat himself when a thrum went through the dining hall. She looked across the crowded benches—pac
ked with grey-adorned students with their respective touches of red, blue, green, silver, and, more sparsely, her own lavender. The loud buzzing of their joined conversations fell to stuttering before stopping altogether. She cursed her short stature and rose from her seat, half standing on the bench, to find the source of the disturbance.

  The Formynder had entered the hall. Mori instantly went stiff, sitting up even straighter and pulled at his tunic to straighten it, too.

  Due to her daily contact with Siare, Mina could not help but think of him as Shavare, but to spare Mori’s delicate sensibilities, she would observe the formalities. The Formynder wore the same uniform as the pupils, only accented in black and with the amethyst symbol of the Firsts embroidered on the right breast—an Instructor’s uniform. And he had come alone, eschewing his usual Honor Guard. Amused at the room’s reaction to the Guardian of all Coerdom choosing to have breakfast among his pupils, she settled back onto the bench and attended to the serious business of sating her grumbling stomach. Who could have known that dreaming required so much energy?

  Shavare’s voice carried across the hall as he said, “Good morning, Shepherds.” He moved in that eerily fluid way of au Leauxs, going directly to the back of the hall where the board was laid out with the morning’s fare.

  “We all need to eat, no?” He asked of the room playfully, unleashing his devastating smile, and the room responded with relieved, nervous laughter. “Today, I am simply another instructor joining you. As you were,” he finished with a wave of his hand, and the students began turning back to one another and their meals.

  “What is she like?” Mina repeated, picking up the thread of their interrupted conversation. She took a moment to consider her words, considering her audience.

  “She is strong. That more than anything. And kind. And patient. And she loves to laugh, which I don’t believe happens nearly enough.”

  Mori nodded, sipping his tea in his oh-so-proper way. “She is…” he paused, and Mina knew he was searching for the Coerdan word for what he meant to convey. “Remarkable. You are blessed to spend such time with her.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “She only touched me that once,” he continued. “To help me with the language. It was very…strange to have her inside my mind. But, it was…pleasurable.”

  “Well, I am pleased that you approve,” Shavare said as he joined them, sliding onto the bench next to Mina.

  She started, not having heard or seen him approach, and Mori leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over his tea before bowing formally.

  “Form–” he stopped and corrected himself. “Instructor, Shavare,” he finished, bowing again with his hands steepled before him.

  “Good morning, Instructor,” Mina echoed, a wide smile on her face as Shavare regarded Mori with raised brows.

  “My pupil, will I never break you of this?” He motioned for Mori to be seated, and Mori complied.

  “Break me of what, Instructor?” He sounded genuinely baffled.

  “Never you mind, Mori. We will discuss it later.” Shavare sighed. He turned to Mina. “I understand you had an eventful evening, Little One.”

  Mina nodded as she applied herself to a honey-covered biscuit.

  “Very exciting, is it not?”

  Again, she simply nodded, lost in cleaning the dripping honey from her fingertips. Mori regarded her with barely-concealed disappointment. She shrugged, unconcerned that her manners did not live up to his Kirin standards.

  Shavare turned his attention to his pupil and began discussing what they might attempt as part of their lesson that day, so Mina let her mind wander. Idly, she wondered what this little visit of the Formynder to Mori’s table would mean for him with his peers, especially now that he was being permitted to attend some of the normal lessons for his Aspect and was no longer tutored solely by Shavare. She hoped it would improve his station with his peers and not prove to be yet another peculiarity setting him apart.

  Her eyes caught on a spot of lavender at the board, and as the boy cleared a cluster of students near the teapots, she recognized the face attached to the Spirit-colored uniform. The pleasure of her delicious breakfast waned.

  Keth finished filling his tray and began looking about for an open bench. As she had been attempting to do ever since Mother’s admonishment, Mina swallowed her pride and did that which she believed Hirute expected of her.

  She slid off the bench and waved until Keth caught sight of her. His eyes widened when he realized who was seated next to her. She waved him over, and he looked to either side of himself, clearly thinking she must be waving to another. She made a pointing gesture at him and waved him over again, more avidly this time.

  To her amazement, Keth quickly moved to join her. She welcomed him and motioned to the seat next to Mori. After some quick introductions, she said to Shavare, “Keth is my niche partner.” She smiled and forced more approval into her voice than she felt.

  “Is that so?” he responded, appraising Keth more keenly. “That’s quite the honor, Keth. To be paired with a Candidate. You must have been selected by the Headmistress, herself.”

  Perfect! Mina thought. Just the sort of encouragement Keth needed.

  “Oh,” Keth stammered. “I’m not certain about that, Lord Formynder.”

  “She must have,” Shavare persisted. “She leaves nothing to chance when it comes to Mina.” Mina glanced quickly at Keth to see if some of his usual resentment would return at the remark. Instead, he seemed to be carefully considering this information.

  “And you must be quite skilled to guide young Mina as she needs.” Shavare’s tone was matter of fact.

  “Oh, he is,” Mina added. “Keth expressed only a year ago, but he takes several lessons with second and third years.” She pointedly did not look at Keth as she said this, reaching for her tea instead.

  Keth flushed and a hesitant smiled bloomed on his lips. “It’s not that uncommon…”

  “Nonsense!” the Formynder declared, letting some of his authority ring in his voice. “I am very pleased to meet you, Keth. And I thank you in advance for your service and care for our Candidate.”

  Keth sat straighter, suddenly as serious as Mori, and he nodded gravely. He looked at Mina as if seeing her for the first time then returned his gaze to Shavare. “No, sir. It is my honor.”

  Yes. Mother Wilha’s voice sounded in Mina’s mind, crooning. That is precisely what I had in mind. Well done, Mina.

  Mina looked at Keth with genuine affection for the first time, and she poured that into her smile, winking at him when his eyes met hers. He gaped for a moment before gathering himself, returning to his breakfast with a wrinkle between his brows. He did not return her smile, but she knew now that she had finally worn down his defenses. Soon, they would be allies, whether he liked it or not.

  Eighteen

  “Keep bright the light of hope, for he who has lost it, in his utter desolation, will bring calamity upon the world. Be ever-vigilant, Shepherds all, for the one given over to despair.”

  –Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd

  Mykal woke suddenly, terror coursing through his mind. A whispering there told him he must hide—a whispering of thoughts not his own. At the tender age of ten, he’d yet to declare. But he’d always trusted the gift he’d been given. He’d always known to whom he belonged—the Great Shepherd and the Spirit Aspect only He could bestow. He listened to that gift now, channeled through the voice of his Doyen, and scrambled from his sheets with the intention of hiding.

  He crawled beneath his bed, his breath coming in gasps as the fear threatened to overwhelm him.

  Calm now, Mykal, Doyen Nylae whispered to him. Stay calm and listen to your Doyen, yes?

  He nodded; she could not see him, but she would feel his ascent through their connection. He glanced down at his governing band where it glowed a soft lavender.

  That’s my boy, Nylae said approvingly. I’m going to release you, Mykal. Do you understand? I’m giving you permi
ssion to use your gift.

  He thrilled and shivered at the prospect. He was never permitted to use his Aspect when his Doyen was not present. But, if she gave him permission…

  The bracelet flared brightly for an instant before the light died completely. It seemed nothing more than a simple band now—decorative and useless.

  Watch now, she commanded, and Mykal did. Open yourself, Mykal. Hurry!

  Carefully, he reached for his gift and did as she asked: Mykal reached. This act was wholly different from what he experienced inherently. For the feeling of others were ever present, like the smells wafting on the air, like the colors dancing in his vision. He had been thus as long as he could remember.

  At the first sign of his gift, his parents had taken him to see the nearest Arbiter. Mykal had been very young, but he would never forget the touch of the Arbiter’s mind on his own, and how familiar the connection had been. He had yearned for more, but the Arbiter explained that Mykal was still too young; he would have many more years before he would fully express and leave for his new life at the Steading. When they’d been selected to settle Shepherd’s Seek, the Doyen chosen to accompany the settlers was one who shared Mykal’s Aspect and took him in hand. With the safety of the governor, he’d been able to remain with his mates, learn beside them as if he were just as they. And he’d waited.

  With every year that passed, Mykal felt his gift growing. And this year, he had been excited to find that, with Doyen Nylae’s aid, he could hear the thoughts of others. Faintly, and only when he concentrated very hard, but it was happening. Mykal would be a Seer! His parents had beamed with pride when he’d told them, and they had promised to heed the Doyen’s advice and take him to the Steading by his next naming day whether he had fully expressed or not.

  But what was happening now had not happened before. At least, not that he was aware. Perhaps Nylae had done something to him when she’d released him from the governor—when she had thrust upon him the instructions for what he was to do next.