by Alisha Basso
Leinos—tall, broad, a little gaunt and frayed around the edges—held himself erect but met her gaze with apology in his copper eyes. The last of the sparkling light radiated from them and filled her with peace. For a breath, she felt the weight he carried as Supreme Guardian of Cirq, the compassion and love he had for his country and its remaining people, the fierce demand to save them. She forgave him instantly even without fully understanding what was happening. The knot under her ribs unraveled.
Her mother swore by forgiveness. Lauren, not so much. Her mother also believed each person had a mission in life, something to learn, something to teach. She couldn’t help wondering what her mother would say about the turn her daughter’s life had taken a couple of days ago.
She pushed away thoughts of home before they undid her. She missed her family.
“I believe,” Leinos said, sounding weary, “we would all benefit from whatever succor the spring has to offer today. We will go one at a time. Our Lady Horsecaller first.”
The day’s events—especially the past five minutes—and an empty stomach had Lauren on edge. The momentary peace evaporated. Danger or something supernatural lurked around every corner. Someone else could experience the spring’s succor and leaping fish first.
“Thank you, but that isn’t necessary, really. You go ahead.”
He reached a hand toward her. “Come. We will go together. Bring Pindar.”
Just like that, she yielded. Ping-ponging emotions always had addled her good sense. She’d removed Pindar’s bridle earlier when she’d shown Artepa how to feed him. Quickly, she got his saddle off and set it on the ground without knowing why that was necessary. In the past, she always had to understand why. Despite her reluctance of a moment ago, letting Leinos lead her felt natural now. Vraz had left earlier, so she knew she wasn’t being swayed by some sage trick. She trusted Leinos wouldn’t do that, although he probably could if needed.
She put her hand in his and let him tug her forward.
The gate was nothing more than a break in a dense, tangled hedgerow. Once through, the air instantly felt different—lighter, cleaner, fresher. She inhaled deeply, feeling as renewed as if she’d had a nap, a good meal, and a cool drink. If nothing else, the spring promised a hot soak. She hoped he didn’t expect they would enjoy the water together, but at this point, she wasn’t sure she really cared so long as she could get her body clean and warm.
The same tall pines lined the way, larger than the ones outside, like still sentinels frozen in time. Here and there was a lower bush with dark, shiny leaves. Holly? She couldn’t tell, but there were more the farther they went.
Overhead, a rustling flutter, wings against branches. She flung her body into his. He easily enfolded her in his arms, as if it was exactly where she belonged.
“What is it, my lady?”
They were being attacked and he wasn’t reacting.
“Didn’t you hear that?” Her voice squeaked as she peered up through the branches. Her heart rapped against her ribs like a farrier’s hammer shaping a horseshoe. He tightened his arms around her. She tucked her head under his chin.
“I heard nothing,” he said.
But he was shaking, too. Wait, was he laughing?
After stroking her back a few more times, clearly taking the time to get his voice under control before speaking, he said, “You are safe, k’varo risa.”
Oh, right. Yekerk. Will. Not. Enter. Here. Damned if she didn’t feel comforted.
“I thought I heard birds or something.” Comforted and foolish.
Whether he took her seriously or just wanted to make her feel better, he scanned the area above them. It was too dark to see anything. And he’d already told her there hadn’t been birds in Cirq for many years.
“You are tired, but you will feel better after soaking in the spring.”
That seemed to be their cue to get going, and surely the others were eager to take a turn, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he took a deep, sighing breath and pulled her tighter to him, fitting her bones to his, resting his cheek on the top of her head. Oh, lordy he felt good. Could she do it? Could she comfort him? Is this how one derived comfort, by giving it to another? Maybe he didn’t have to ask because that’s how it worked. She thought of his losses—today in Steepside and long ago when his wife and children had died—how had he survived?
She had miscarried a baby early in her marriage, and the grief had been overwhelming. For months afterward, she could barely pick her head up off the pillow some mornings. Darren had been no help. He hadn’t wanted a family, and she’d been too afraid to try again.
She’d let it go.
Just let it go.
The day had stripped them raw, and she was lightheaded from the swirling turmoil. Later, she would find the courage to lie next to him and try to learn about the comfort of another. It was the least she could do. For both of them.
By some unspoken mutual accord, they separated and continued in silence. She heard the fluttering once again, as if something followed them.
“You don’t hear that?”
“No, but the grove of the goddess is a strange and wondrous place. Most fear to enter, but those who do report seeing and hearing things that others do not. Do not be afraid. Nothing can harm you here.”
Soon, a steamy glimmer of light heralded the edge of the spring and she forgot about whatever it was that might be following them. The spring was more like a pond, about twenty-five feet across. Dark, flat stones formed a walkway around the edge, and the surface was glassy as black ice. She’d been picturing a hot tub. Several feet of lush grass ringed it before meeting the soaring pines. The sky was clear, just as above Raverwood. One moon had risen over the tree tops and the water mirrored it. A soft, mysterious light suffused the area. It was beautiful as a postcard.
The scenery left Pindar unmoved. He already had his nose in the grass. Lauren unbuckled his halter and let him go. She walked to the water’s edge.
“What do I do? Is there a protocol?” She was eager to be immersed.
Leinos chuckled, and she turned at the sound, glad to see him smile. It intensified the lines around his eyes, and she wondered if they’d been made by laughter or a long life spent mostly outdoors. She hoped there had been laughter, and that there would be more in the future.
She put her hands on her hips. “Are you laughing at me again?”
He shook his head. “No, my lady. Merely appreciating your discovery of this place. There is no right or wrong way. I will leave you to enjoy the spring.”
He had laughed, but was back to calling her “my lady” again. She didn’t like it.
And no mention of towels. The implication being she could drip dry. At night. Alone. In the sacred grove of the goddess.
She didn’t mind.
He began to go, then stopped. “We will hear if you need anything. Trust in the goddess.” He made a bow and disappeared in a swirl of mist.
Lauren slowly counted to ten, then stripped and eased herself into the inky pool. The water was warm and soothing and smelled faintly of just-bit apple. She found a small ledge where she could sit. Water reached her chin.
“Oh my God, this feels good,” she said after a moment. “Goddess,” she amended in case anyone was listening.
Sore muscles stretched and relaxed. Layers of fretful sweat and tears slipped away. She pushed off from the wall and floated on her back, looking up at the sky. The second moon had followed the first, slightly smaller and the palest shade of pink. Their light polished her curves with rosy gilding. She closed her eyes and let the bellows of her lungs buoy her up. She was aware of gentle eddies here and there and wondered if it was the magical fish testing her trueness. She doubted any would offer themselves to her. She could think of many words to describe herself but true wouldn’t be on the list.
If, as her mother believed, she was here to learn something, perhaps that was it. How to be true. First, she’d have to understand what it meant.
She too
k a deep breath, flipped over and dove, rubbing stiff fingers through her hair and scrubbing her face before surfacing. When she did, everything had changed.
Not everything. She was still in the spring, it was still dark, and the straight, straight trunks of the ancient pines still stood guard. But the water had brightened. Pinprick-sized orbs twinkled in a rising cloud of luminescence at the other end of the pool. The water billowed and bent as if being pushed up from below. Lauren paddled back to the side where she had entered, unsure, but trying to trust as she’d been told.
Nothing can harm me here. Nothing can harm me here. Nothing can harm me here.
The radiant cloud, pulling water with it, rose over the opposite bank, sparkling brighter and growing more dense. It began to take on a roughly triangular shape with edges that blended with the background. Lauren’s breath and heart quickened.
Details came into focus. Leaves of all sizes and shape and shades from red to gold to brown and a few that were green. Where could they have come from? There was nothing but evergreens as far as she could see. At the apex of the triangle strands of thick hair waved and waved then cascaded into the water flowing into the spring with the sound of a tinkling brook purling over rocks. Small, smooth stones mixed with the leaves—brown, gray, purple—like looking into a vertical stream. Iridescent fish swam in the depths. The leaves were everywhere on what now appeared to be a garment made of surging ocean and starlit sky. An arm took shape beneath a sheer belled sleeve. A shoulder, slightly bent. Slender neck.
A face. A woman. Beyond beautiful. Ethereal. Serene. Young. Old. Skin of alabaster and obsidian and suffused with light from within. Eyes that were blue, green, brown, clear and exuded kindness, compassion, love, mercy. Lauren could neither grasp nor describe that face, but she knew she was in the presence of something—someone—supernal and unknowable.
Despite the warm water, she shivered. All she could think was, and I’m naked as Eve.
“Good evening, blessed Horsecaller.”
Did the vision speak? Lauren couldn’t tell if the voice was inside or outside her head. She nodded. Maybe. Maybe she only thought she nodded.
“Good evening,” she croaked. Good evening, what? Your highness? My Lady? Your Goddessship?
As if reading her thoughts–of course she could read her thoughts—the woman said, “I am The All.”
Chapter 13
THE All stood yet remained in perpetual motion, and Lauren sat, transfixed. Water continued to flow up and down into the spring, stars flickered, fish jumped, leaves whirled, and The All’s hair lifted on a breeze Lauren didn’t feel. She wouldn’t blink. She didn’t want to miss anything. Yet, part of her knew understanding of this—if any was to be had—would not come through sight alone. She tried to formulate a question, but so many whirred about her brain, she couldn’t catch hold of one. Finally, she blurted her mantra from the past couple of days.
“I’m not the Horsecaller.”
And regretted the moment it left her lips. If The All addressed her as such, surely it must be true? She didn’t want to come across as impertinent, but what, or who, exactly, was The All?
“Words do not matter,” the glowing presence said. As before, the sound of her voice came from everywhere at once. “They have worshiped and cursed what I am with many names over numerous millennia in your counting.”
The woman, or goddess, sat on a rock at the water’s edge, the leaves rustling, a hint of murmuring rippling the water. She laughed, a peal that could have been a bell, the wind, a wave, and casually rested her elbows on her knees. Lauren realized it was the items on her back that made The All’s shoulders slump.
“The leaves…” Lauren whispered. “Are they heavy?”
“They are prayers.” Her smile was brief. “Carried to me on the wind, brought with sweet horse breath. Laden with longing and sadness. Heavy, yes, but not burdensome.” She plucked a yellow ash leaf from her sleeve and gently set it on the water. It floated toward Lauren.
When the leaf reached her, she cupped her hand beneath it. And could not lift it. The leaf followed a current back to the All and disappeared into the stream.
“Even I cannot answer these prayers. Not without the horses.”
“But aren’t you—”
“Passion and Neglect. Promise and Betrayal. Naught and All.”
Whatever the heck that meant. Nothing like ending an eventful day in conversation with a cryptic deity. Lauren tried to muffle her uncertainty. Her skin tingled, and she registered—somewhat belatedly—that the water circulating through The All also flowed around her.
“Yes, we are connected, as is everything. People have forgotten the dance. They must remember before it is too late. Soon, the blight will spread beyond Cirq’s borders. These orisons rode to me upon the horses’ breath, and that is the only way to clear them from my back.”
Pindar, nonchalantly chewing a mouthful of grass, walked up behind The All. He paused to sniff the woman’s hair. Lauren stopped breathing, but he didn’t choose this moment to blow his nose. The All put her hand up, and he nuzzled her palm, bringing his face close to hers. They inhaled and exhaled together for several minutes. Lauren knew he smelled sweet, and she frequently did the same thing. Did he listen to prayers? Did he send them to a higher power? Or was it only the horses of Cirq that had this ability, this responsibility?
A rapturous smile suffused The All’s face with light. She sat a little straighter.
“The prophecy…?” Lauren asked.
“Is merely potential.”
Which could mean she wasn’t necessarily destined to call the horses. Even if she accepted that she was the prophesied Horsecaller, it didn’t guarantee success.
If she did call them, the leaves—the impossible weight—on the All’s back would blow away. Thousands of prayers would be answered. She’d never wanted to do something more in her life.
“How can I do this? How can I call the horses?”
“You must choose between love and fear. Between allowing the light or being swallowed by dark. That is all there is.”
Great. More mumbo-jumbo. Still, she didn’t want to appear disrespectful.
Should she meet The All’s gaze? She’d been looking at the leaves and the flowing water, and only sideways at the woman’s face. Memories of bible stories with people bursting into flames or turning into salt flashed in her mind, but she could be mixing that up with some horror flick. Her religious education was sketchy at best.
It scarcely mattered.
The most thorough training wouldn’t have prepared her for floating naked in a spring talking to an otherworldly being. She felt nothing but a humbling compassion from the woman, though, so she lifted her eyes, hoping to gain some understanding of what it meant to choose between love and fear, of allowing the light. Sudden brightness blinded her, and she lost track of time.
~~~
The moment Leinos returned from escorting Lauren to the spring, he went to Pheeso. The older man sat hunched at the base of an ancient, gnarled tree, looking equally aged and wizened. He studied his hands, which lay open on his lap. The Supreme Guardian crouched and took them in his.
“My friend, will you accept my apology? There is no excuse for speaking to you as I did. You were right to voice your concerns—”
Pheeso snatched his hands away. “This is a fool’s errand,” he hissed. “You know it. You think you can make the queen see reason. But even if you do, it will be too late.”
In the warm glow cast by the fire, his eyes were red-rimmed and stark. Artepa stopped brushing Armody’s hair and came over. The girl stared blankly into the flames. Malek kept his eyes on the entrance to the grove, and one of the guards stood watch.
Artepa put her hand on Leinos’s shoulder.
“We are all tired,” she said.
“Indeed.” Leinos stood, brushing his hands together. “Some more than others.” He looked at Artepa, and her hand slid away. “As I have told you many times, you and Pheeso need not delay
retiring. I would miss you both, but if that is your desire, then I release you.”
“Pheeso and I will not be disrequired so easily. Even you cannot change the law, Leinos. We are bound as Guardians until you die.”
His gaze slid to the flames. “Or you die.”
“Or you are disrequired.” Pheeso jumped to his feet, new energy in his movements. “Have you thought of that? The queen may disrequire you for this. Do not deny you have considered transitioning away from your pledge.”
“I made a vow.”
“In a time of great sorrow,” Artepa said gently.
“How or when I took it neither diminishes my commitment nor alters my obligation.” He felt the heat rising in him again, the power of Supreme Guardian that was both honor and bane. Giving it up had never occurred to him, not until holding the Horsecaller. From the moment he had caught her in his arms, he had thought of little else. Pheeso knew him too well. He changed the subject. “The queen will see reason. She will see that it is right to call the horses.”
Artepa and Pheeso exchanged a look. “Perhaps,” Artepa said.
Pheeso jerked his head to the side and spat.
“That woman would not see reason if you slapped her with it.” He stalked off in the direction of the latrine.
Leinos started after him, but Artepa held him back.
“Let him go.” She sighed. “He’s afraid to hope after all this time.” She squeezed his arm, glanced at Armody, and moved them a few steps farther from the fire.
“You have been Supreme Guardian of Cirq for most of your life. But that is not all you are. You are still a man. Surely you desire to join again. She is well formed and strong, the right age, with the heart of a warrior whether she realizes or not.”
Leinos almost laughed. “Armody?”
Artepa shushed him. “Of course not. I mean Lauren.”
“She wishes to return to her home.”
“If you two joined, she would stay. Have you thought of that?”
“If she chooses to stay, it must be her own decision.”
