by Kelly Carr
Davu, Jina, and Lydia looked up just as a small form dropped from a tree and landed gracefully at their feet. A flame appeared, illuminating the warm brown skin and pale braided hair of a girl only slightly older than the one Davu held in his arms. The flame wavered in her palm as she held it up to get a better look at Lydia.
“How lovely!” she said, then laughed at the younger girl’s expression as she eyed the sourceless fire.
“Valeria!” Jina snapped. “What are you doing out of the infirmary and at this hour?”
Valeria glanced down guiltily at a bandage wrapped around her left ankle, then looked back up at Jina and displayed the length of embroidered silk she held in her hand. “It doesn’t hurt much. Besides, I wanted to see the sunrise from the sky.
“You could have been killed!” Jina said, snatching the delicate fabric from the young girl’s hand. “This is how you got injured in the first place: reckless flying! Go back to the crèche at once! I’ll deal with you when I’m done here.”
“No! I want to hear what’s going on!” Valeria said stubbornly. “Is she really the Mother of Magic?”
“I have seen no evidence of that,” Jina replied. “The child is going back where she belongs, and so are you.”
“Well, of course you haven’t seen any proof,” Davu interjected. “Didn’t I tell you her powers just manifested? She has no control over them. She’s apparently like any other child in that respect. Until she’s been given some instruction, she’ll only be able to use her powers unconsciously.”
“Then make her upset or something,” Jina said.
Davu glared at her. “Don’t be unkind.” He had no intention of distressing the girl. However, at that moment, Valeria stepped forward, reached out a hand, and pinched the unsuspecting toddler on the arm.
Lydia’s chin trembled, then she burst into tears.
chapter two: Jina
“Valeria!” Jina scolded.
The child looked around guiltily, but had no time to defend herself before the ground began to shake. A fierce wind sprang up from nowhere. Angry red bands of light appeared, and Lydia’s form shifted and warped into that of a puppy, a bear cub, a bird, and back to a Human again.
Frantically, Jina placed her hands on the earth and tried to ease the shaking. Valeria waved her own little arms in a vain attempt to calm the wind that whipped her hair like a nest of angry serpents.
“Do something!” Jina snapped at Davu. “Calm her down!”
Davu stroked Lydia’s brow reassuringly and began to sing an Oread lullaby. The warm, bass tone of his voice seemed to soothe her. Gradually the forest grew quiet again.
Jina’s breath came in gasps. She took a deep breath and attempted to compose herself. Her first thought was for the child in her charge. “Valeria, are you alright?”
“Yes, Lady Jina,” Valeria replied.
“Good.” Jina turned back to Davu, trying to gather her thoughts. “Well,” she said, “I certainly see what you mean. She’s clearly no Human child. You did right to bring her here. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Davu nodded his acceptance of her apology.
“But can she really be the Mother of Magic? I always thought the idea of her return was nothing more than wishful thinking…and she’s just a child…”
“Lydia, come play with me,” Valeria said, apparently already bored with the adults’ conversation.
Lydia clutched Davu’s tunic and shook her head vehemently.
“Come on. I won’t pinch you again, I promise,” Valeria said.
Jina frowned at her sternly. “You’d better not.”
“I only did it to see if she really is the Mother of Magic,” Valeria replied with a shrug.
“Go on, Lydia,” Jina said. “Play with Valeria while my brother and I talk.”
Davu set the child gently on the ground. Hesitantly, she took the older girl’s proffered hand and followed her a short distance away.
When Jina was sure they were safely occupied, she turned back to her brother. “The only person who can confirm that she’s the Mother of Magic is the storyteller, Elias.”
Davu nodded. “I can go find him if you’ll take care of Lydia.”
“Great gryphons, Davu! I can’t take her back to the crèche; she’s too unstable! You saw what happened with Valeria. If one of the children upsets her, she could kill them all!”
“Then don’t take her back to the crèche. Excuse yourself from your duties for a few days and take her somewhere out of the way. Try to teach her some control. You know better than anyone how to subdue a child’s first outbursts of power.”
Jina looked doubtfully at Lydia. The girl seemed so ordinary, happily tumbling about with Valeria, but she had seen for herself the child’s magical potential. How could she even begin to tame such raw power?
Lydia laughed, and little lights appeared in the air around her. Jina tensed warily, but Davu laid a reassuring hand on her arm, and she relaxed.
“Alright,” she said, “I’ll try. Wait here with the child while I return Valeria to the crèche and make my excuses. I won’t be long.”
Davu nodded.
Jina strode over to the two children, who had clearly formed an instant friendship in the way that only children can. “Come along, Valeria,” she said firmly. “It’s past time we get you back to where you belong.”
“No!” Lydia said, clutching possessively at her new friend’s arm. Her happy lights disappeared instantly.
“You’ll see her again,” Jina promised, “but Valeria needs to go home now. You’ll stay here with Davu until I return and then I’ll take you somewhere nice. Is that alright?” Jina wondered if she could force the issue if it came to it. The girl was so powerful that it might be safest to give her what she wanted, at least until she was taught to control her outbursts.
Lydia appeared unsure, but Valeria smiled at her. “I’ll come play with you after my lessons, Lydia. That will be alright, won’t it?” she said, looking up at Jina for confirmation.
Jina sighed but nodded her consent. She had hoped to prevent any further contact between the children for the time being, but it seemed it was unavoidable. “Come along, Valeria,” she repeated.
This time, Lydia let her go, though not without some reluctance. Valeria ran ahead of Jina, then stopped to wave at her friend. Jina shooed her along impatiently. The sky was beginning to lighten, and early risers could be heard moving about their houses in the treetops.
Jina pulled Valeria to a halt just outside the doors of the crèche and gave her what she hoped was her most intimidating look. “Now, Valeria, I want you to listen carefully. You have seen and heard things tonight which you had no right to. Nothing can be done about that now, but I must insist that you not speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?”
“Why?” Valeria asked, frowning. “The Mother of Magic is back! It’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
Jina shook her head. “We don’t know that for sure yet, and until we do, I don’t want everyone getting all excited over nothing. Can I trust you with this secret? It’s a very big responsibility.”
Valeria nodded slowly. Jina wondered if she really understood.
“Very good. Little Lydia will expect to see you later, so I will leave instructions that you’re to run an errand for me after your lessons. Come to the Koval Retreat and tell no one.”
“The Koval Retreat?!” Valeria said, her voice dangerously loud. Quickly Jina shushed her. “We’re never supposed to go there,” Valeria continued in a whisper, as though Jina could have forgotten.
“That’s why no one will find us there,” Jina explained. “Now hurry on inside before everyone wakes up.”
Valeria nodded again, eyes wide, then turned and walked into the crèche, curling up alongside another child as if she had never left. When she was settled, Jina skipped through the room with the light step of a dancer and opened the door of her own bedroom.
Nebi was still asleep on the bed, his long dark hair flung across her pill
ow as well as his own. She wondered how he could stand the nuisance of it. Her own hair billowed out from her head in a cloud of curls, which she kept pushed back from her face with a headscarf at all times.
“Nebi,” she said, shaking his shoulder gently.
He groaned and rolled over, cracking one reluctant eye open. “What is it now?”
“I have to go,” Jina said, replacing her robe with a simple linen dress and throwing a few essentials into a bag. “I’ve received a message from my friend in the Lorenai Mountains. Her daughter is injured and she needs my help.”
“You have to go now?” Nebi said grumpily. “Can’t it wait a few hours? Come back to bed.”
“No, I need to leave this instant. Please make my excuses to the other healers for my sudden departure. I’m sure one of them will be happy to entertain you in my absence.”
Nebi sighed. “Very well, do as you like.”
“Thank you,” Jina said, and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before slipping back out of the room.
Her next stop was the kitchens, where she hastily shoved some fruits, cheeses, and a loaf of freshly baked bread into her bag, ignoring the disgruntled expressions of the cooks busily preparing breakfast.
Jina found Davu right where she had left him. Lydia was half asleep in his arms, listening contentedly to the low sound of his voice as he sang to her. Jina couldn’t help a small smile at the tranquillity of the scene.
“Alright,” Jina reached out and took the girl from her brother’s arms. She seemed too tired to protest. “Find Elias as swiftly as you can. We’ll be waiting for you at the Koval Retreat. No one will look for us there.”
“Are you crazy?” Davu said.
Jina shrugged. “There’s nothing really wrong with the place. It’s only a reminder of bad memories, and only for the very oldest of the Trevi. I’m not afraid.”
Davu still looked doubtful.
“Since when are you so respectful of the rules?” Jina asked.
Davu’s expression relaxed into a smile. “Since when do you break them?”
There was silence between them for a few moments until the quiet sounds of the forest waking reminded Jina of their urgent need to be gone before anyone could see them. She laid a hand on her brother’s arm. She knew he understood her feelings, as he always did. They might have their differences in interests and opinions, but for more than a century they had been a team, no matter what obstacle came their way. Now they would have to separate, just when it seemed they might have encountered the most significant problem they would ever face.
Davu placed one hand over hers and gave Lydia a gentle pat on the head with the other. Then he turned and disappeared between the trees.
Jina sighed and walked away in the opposite direction, the sleeping child nestled in her arms.
The Koval Retreat was located some two-hours’ walk north of Ozryn. The surrounding forest was filled to bursting with greenery and wildflowers, but despite its beauty, all the Trevi gave it a wide berth. There were no Trevi dwellings within two miles of the fortress in any direction.
The Retreat itself stood on a ledge, high on the slope of a mountain. Once, it had commanded a spectacular view of the forest below, but it had long since been surrounded by towering trees and overrun with vines relentlessly tearing it down stone by stone.
Jina had visited the fortress only once before, as all young Trevi did. At the time, listening to her teacher’s description of the events that had transpired there, she had found it sinister and foreboding. Now, bathed in sunlight, filtered through the leaves above, it seemed like some lonely abandoned creature, sleeping peacefully as it awaited its master’s return.
Jina looked down at Lydia and wondered if the change could have anything to do with her current company. To her surprise, the child’s eyes were open. She was staring curiously at the crumbling building.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“This is the Koval Retreat,” Jina said, her voice almost a whisper. “We’ll be staying here for a few days until Davu brings someone to see you.”
“What about my mama?”
Jina wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she said nothing and carried Lydia through the gateway of the Retreat, pushing bushes and brambles out of her way. Inside was a spacious courtyard full of tumbled blocks of stone. The Retreat was one of a very few ancient Human constructions in the Erean Forest, and unlike Trevi buildings, which were grown from trees and earth by magic, it was made of stones which had been laid by hand.
At one end of the walled courtyard was the remains of a small building, and at the other, a tower whose uppermost stones now lay around its base as if they had been blown outwards.
Jina shivered and averted her eyes, applying herself instead to the task of setting up a temporary camp.
Several small saplings grew among the paving stones of the courtyard. Jina selected one and began to sing. Her voice wasn’t as good as her brother’s, but her magic was equally potent. Under her influence, the sapling grew and bent, branches weaving together and leaves bursting forth until they formed walls, creating a tiny hut, just big enough to shelter two people.
Jina looked down and saw Lydia staring wide-eyed at the tree, her mouth forming a tiny ‘o’ of surprise. After a moment, a smile spread across her face, and she began to babble nonsensical words in an imitation of the Oread language. Jina laughed.
“You’re not ready for that just yet, little one. You must start small. Come here.” She sat down and gestured for the girl to do the same.
Lydia obeyed, and Jina picked a pebble from the ground. Exerting just the smallest amount of magical energy, she made the pebble rise into the air and hover over her palm. She held it there for a moment, then let it fall and held it out to Lydia.
The child took it eagerly and turned it over, examining it. Finally, she placed it in her palm, just as Jina had done, and screwed up her face as though she were trying very hard. Nothing happened. Jina hadn’t expected it to. Magic had very little to do with physical effort. Jina had seen dozens of children attempt this first exercise, and none understood it on their first try. It appeared that this child was no different.
As she screwed up her face a second time, Jina surreptitiously reached out a hand, wondering if she dared try the solution that worked on ordinary Trevi children. Gathering her courage, she tickled the back of Lydia’s neck. The child jumped in surprise, and the pebble shot into the air. After a moment of shock, she laughed with delight and clapped her hands.
“Again!” she said, as the stone clattered to the ground some ten feet away.
Warily, Jina handed her another, and they began again…and again…and again. When Lydia grew bored with the pebbles, Jina had her attempt a similar exercise with water. By the end of the day, she was thoroughly soaked and bruised from her charge’s magical misfires, but the girl already seemed to be gaining some semblance of control over her outbursts, a feat that took most Trevi children days or weeks to achieve. Even Jina and Davu, powerful as they were, had taken a few days to get their magic under control as children.
Unfortunately, Jina’s ability to help Lydia was limited. She knew very little of the elementary lessons in Sylph or Aidan magic and nothing at all of the other powers the child had displayed. The girl might understand her power well enough to prevent the earth from shaking when she got upset, but the blasts of wind and fire and flashes of light were still a problem, not to mention her sudden changes in form.
Jina had been regarding the prospect of including Valeria as a nuisance, but as the afternoon drew on, she found herself looking eagerly for the young S’aidan’s arrival. She wished she had thought to include full-grown Trevi from the other tribes to help teach Lydia to manage her power, but it was too late now. Valeria would have to do.
A shadow passed over the courtyard. Jina looked up just as Valeria dropped from the sky, clutching a blue silk glider, embroidered with the feathers of a thousand different birds.
Lydia’s attentio
n was drawn from the exercise Jina had given her, and water splashed across both of them. Lydia laughed. Valeria laughed too. Jina only sighed.
“I hope you remember your basics, Valeria,” she said, wringing water from her hair. “I need your help to get this child’s power under control.”
Valeria didn’t hear, or perhaps she chose not to. She and Lydia were already busy climbing a pile of tumbled stones, racing to the top. Valeria, graceful and light on her feet, won easily.
Jina allowed them their childish games for a while, but eventually she convinced them to sit down with her. She passed the remainder of the evening watching Valeria teach Lydia to blow a leaf from one side of the courtyard to the other without moving from where she sat. Valeria seemed proud of her role as a teacher, but they weren’t able to accomplish much before Lydia fell asleep where she sat from pure exhaustion.
Jina sat in the dim light of their campfire, stroking the child’s hair until she, too, began to nod off. As her eyes drifted closed, she was struck by the realization that her life and the lives of all the Trevi would never be the same.
chapter three: elias
Elias was recounting The War of the Five Kingdoms for a group of captivated young Sylphs, when he caught sight of a man crouched in the branches of a nearby tree, watching him. The man had the dark skin of an Oread and the striking blue eyes of an Undine. Those details alone were enough to betray his identity.
Children born with the powers of more than one tribe were rare in the Erean Forest. Twins were even more uncommon. This man, Elias knew, was both, though he couldn’t recall his name. It was lost amid the thousands of other Trevi he had known in his lifetime.
“…and so, left with no other option, the Humans stopped their foolish war, and the single kingdom of Kailar became five separate kingdoms known as Torvain, Karzay, Bethen, Marakai, and Lezar,” Elias concluded, getting to his feet.
“What about the rest of the story?” asked a young Sylph, his grey eyes wide and eager.
“I’ll tell it another time,” Elias said, gently ruffling the boy’s pale blonde hair, as fine as spider silk.
