Remnants: Season of Wonder (A Remnants Novel)

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  I felt Ronan shudder and gasp. As if time had slowed, I saw Vidar’s mouth open, his eyes widen in pain. Felt Bellona’s hand shudder just as I received mine.

  I stared hard at Vidar, wanting to seize what I saw in his eyes and hold on to it. For in them was wonder. Overwhelming wonder. Glory.

  Against searing pain.

  Bright light seemed to flood the room, blinding me. And yet my heart surged simultaneously with such joy — such sheer, breathtaking happiness — that I could not think of the pain or of my blindness. It filled me to a place of overflowing, until I thought the feeling must be actually taking shape and oozing from my very pores. That I might be swelling with it all, a rising flood wave about to crest and spread out onto opposing shores.

  And then, when I thought I couldn’t possibly feel anything more, I felt … nothing.

  CHAPTER

  3

  I came to a moment later, held firmly in Ronan’s arms. I glanced down and knew the armband was more than just clasped shut around my arm in a perfect fit. It was seared into my skin. One with it. As if it had been made for me alone. And somehow, I knew that it had.

  The elder kneeled before me, as if waiting for my eyes to focus on him, and then gave me a smile. “Good. Very good, Andriana. You will likely feel pain the most, for your gift is of empathy, which your trainer surely helped you discern. From here on out, you shall feel every emotion thrice as intensely as before — both good and bad. Even another’s emotion shall become your own, whether it be sorrow or glory. Because of this, others will be drawn to you, because you connect with them in a way that is beyond most of us …” He shook his head. “This will allow you great access but also put you in greater danger, because those who wish to rule this world will recognize the power within you.”

  I swallowed hard. So it was both really, really good and really, really bad. I knew it was an honor. The Maker had chosen me, and chosen this day to fully reveal it. But given that thousands upon thousands exhibiting the high gifts had been executed in the Trading Union since the Great War, hunted down by Sheolites originating in Pacifica, having my own high gift become more recognizable was … concerning.

  The elder struggled to rise, and two women helped him complete his task. He turned to Vidar. “And you, son. What is it you felt in the moment of sealing?”

  “Joy. Peace,” Vidar said, mouth half open and working as if he sought the right descriptors but couldn’t stop. “Love. Hope. L-light? Light. I felt light in and through me. Around us.” He looked around, eyes wide, as if wishing he could recapture it.

  “Indeed, yes,” nodded the old man, chin in hand, eyes smiling. “For you have the gift of discernment. From here on out you shall have a clearer sense about those cloaked in darkness as well as those open to the light, even at a distance. Tend to your gifting and it will serve you and the other Ailith in time. For you all will need every edge you can gain against the Sheolites.” His smile faded at the dreaded name. He whispered the last of it, as if uttering the word might evoke them from the very crust of the earth.

  “So, uh, my trainer didn’t really talk up the pros and cons of this gift thing,” Vidar murmured out of the corner of his mouth to me. “Did yours?” I smiled.

  “But do not rest in your gifting,” said the elder, shaking his finger at him. Clearly he hadn’t overheard Vidar. “For your gift shall make you all the clearer their enemy. It shall be you, first, they wish to destroy. For you shall warn your brothers and sisters in every battle.”

  “Boo-yah,” Vidar said with a satisfied nod, folding his arms before his chest and lifting his chin. “Let ’em come.”

  The elder shook his head and shared a long look with Niero, then back again. “There is no place for bravado among your ranks, young Vidar. Courage, yes. But do not get ahead of the Maker.”

  Vidar’s face settled into a very serious expression. His arms fell to his side, and he nodded, lips pressed together.

  “Now, rise, Remnant and Knight, and circle ’round with Raniero.”

  Vidar, Ronan, Bellona, and I stood up, and dutifully wrapped our arms around the others. The elders from above us came and placed their hands on our shoulders, and others beyond them on their shoulders, until the entire floor was filled with those of the Community, each laying a hand on us or those closest to them.

  I smiled as joy again pervaded my heart, surrounded me. So pure. So right. A glimpse of the afterworld itself. At least the afterworld as I hoped it would be, as the elders depicted it.

  At our center was an old woman. She lifted the remaining bands from the chest and turned in a circle, looking each of us in the eye. “Your first task is to find the other Remnants and their knights. A healer, a seer, and one of uncommon wisdom should be among them. Together, you will find increased strength and protection. There are two others — each with miraculous powers” Her delicate, gray brows lowered and she shook her head. “It is unclear to me whether they still live or have been hunted down.”

  We stared at her. Was she a seer too? And was it possible? That some of the Remnants were already dead, before we’d even begun?

  She handed the precious bands to Raniero and he tied the bulging satchel to his wide belt, as if she had said nothing out of the ordinary. As if he did not now carry the wealth of a nation.

  “Where do we find them?” Niero asked.

  “Along the path toward your ultimate goal, in freeing Kapriel,” she said. I puzzled over the name, even as my heartbeat picked up over this mention of our task. “The Maker shall reveal them to you in time.”

  Raniero bowed his head a moment, chin in hand. “Seek within,” he said to us. “Ask the Maker where we are to go in order to find your fellow Ailith as well as free our prince.”

  “Our … our prince?” I sputtered. It was a moment before I realized I’d done so aloud.

  Raniero looked up at me, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes. Pacifica seeks to subjugate us all. Our prince will unite those who can fight against it. But that is but one portion of our mission. First and foremost, we go where the Maker leads, and do as he asks of us.”

  I blinked, slowly, but an overwhelming sense of truth settled around me. This was part of our call? To be Kapriel’s rescuers as well as his guard? “But who imprisoned him? Where is he?”

  “That is unclear; rest in what you know and allow the remaining to be revealed in time.” The elder shook his head grimly and raised a finger. “But do not try and free him until you have gathered the other Remnants.”

  “We must be at our strongest,” Raniero said, nodding, understanding what the elder had left unspoken. “Together in body and spirit. So now let us be about our first task — finding the other Ailith by asking the Maker to reveal to us our first steps.”

  We did as we were told, as our trainer had taught us: closing our eyes, calming ourselves, centering on the Maker. The room became silent as the Community joined with us.

  But I didn’t like what practically shouted to me in response.

  I sucked in my breath and blinked rapidly. Zanzibar? Impossible. I furtively looked around, hoping I hadn’t really heard anything, as the word alone struck fear in my heart and mind at the same time.

  Niero looked right at me. “Tell us what you heard, Andriana,” he said gently.

  “Zan-Zanzibar,” I said, clearing my throat, wondering if they’d all think me crazy. “She’s in Zanzibar.” She. I didn’t know where that came from either. “Our healer.”

  But Vidar, Bellona, and Ronan were all nodding at me, in solid, grim assent. As if they’d heard the same thing. It scared me, this strange, spooky commonality, this intrinsic understanding. Almost as much as the thought of going to Zanzibar. All our growing-up years, we’d only heard stories that made it seem like the last place we wanted to go. Ever.

  “There is no place for fear, Ailith,” Niero said, easily reading it in our faces. “Guard against it. The presence of fear denies the power of the Maker and invites the enemy to use it for his o
wn purposes. And where the Maker sends us, we are to go in complete trust. We have been called.” He put out his hand, using the leading phrase our trainer had always used.

  We all placed our hands atop his. “And we shall answer,” we said as one.

  “So, they couldn’t have tossed us an easy one first, could they?” Vidar said, hiking up the straps of his old military backpack, speaking just loud enough for Niero to hear. But our leader ignored him, trudging forward as we had throughout the night. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the mountains around us in a rosy glow through the mist. “Couldn’t it have been just some Mudhorse Weed,” Vidar went on, “close to the bank? You know, since this is our first time and all outside of the Valley. But no. We get to go and retrieve our healer from among the sickest kingdoms in trader territory. Zanzibar.” He let out a long, slow whistle.

  “I suppose if we wanted easy, we should’ve ditched the call,” I said, readjusting my own pack as I walked alongside Vidar, all the while studying Niero’s back, just beyond Bellona ahead of us. Ronan brought up the rear guard, and I could feel him listening in. “But that would’ve about torn me apart anyway, ignoring it. How about you?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, tucking his thumbs to relieve the pressure of his shoulder straps. All five of us carried many supplies — items that would gain us acceptance among the traders. For if we gained acceptance with them, we’d likely gain access to any village, outpost, or kingdom in the Union. If they helped us secure safe-passage papers, that was.

  “Are you wondering what’s inside these packs, like I am?” Vidar whispered over his shoulder. “I mean, it must be good.”

  I shook my head, staring at the path before me. “I’m trying not to think about it. Otherwise, I might be tempted to run away with it.”

  “You and me both, sister.”

  I wasn’t joking. My mind ran rampant with possibilities and settled on canned corn, something I’d only had once. Sweet, delicious yellow kernels, popping in my mouth, juicy with a taste I’ve never had since. The path … I reminded myself, staring at the trail that led us lower and lower. Soon we’d reach the mouth of the Valley, the only home I’d ever known, and see the desert sprawling before us, no mountains in sight for miles. How did one know where they were without mountains in sight?

  I dropped back a few steps until I was next to Ronan. I sensed no fear in him, only excitement. I’d long felt in tune with him, but now I really felt his emotions, as if they were my own. He’d always wanted to see what was beyond the Valley. He was finally getting his chance, and he was fairly bursting with energy.

  “Hey,” he said, looking down at me with a small smile. “Need me to carry your pack a while?”

  “I’m all right,” I said, shifting the straps again. Truth was, the flesh around my armband burned more than the flesh beneath the pack’s weight. The elders had rubbed a healing ointment on our skin, and then coated the band itself with a mixture of dirt and oil, making the precious metals look cheap, like tin, in the end. They knew there were many ahead that would gladly cut our arms off for the metal alone. We’d welcomed the thick grime, as well as our long-sleeved shirts and sweaters. I partially resented the band and how it might endanger us, and I partially loved it, feeling like a crowned royal with something so extraordinary upon my person. My mom had had a gold locket, once. She traded it for food one harsh, desperate Hoarfrost when I was little. No one I knew had owned anything so precious since.

  They’d given me films for my eyes, delicate material that turned my blue-green irises brown. I hated them, feeling like I wanted to scratch my eyes out one minute, wiping away agitated tears the next. But there were many places ahead that viewed women as a commodity, and since brown eyes were the norm, any other colors were apparently prized. “The last thing you want is to end up in the harem of Zanzibar’s warlord,” said an elder, handing me the colored films again when I tried to hand them back.

  I shuddered when she said it. I’d heard the stories, knew the truth behind them. Three families had disappeared from the Valley when they’d gone on a journey to trade and wandered too near the walled city. Simply disappeared. Children my age, those I used to play with. Mothers and fathers. One grandfather. Gone. The story went they were taken for the women, the others likely killed. Which was apparently why Ronan didn’t have to disguise his true eye color. The men of Zanzibar treated their women as property — something to be obtained, traded, kept.

  I had no idea where the elders had found the films. But it made my mind go wild with possibility about the packs on our backs again. If the Community’s reach allowed them such lenses, what else might be traveling with us? Ancient survival instincts kicked in, making me want to break and run, keep my precious stores for myself. If Mom and Dad had had such gifts, how much different might our lives had been these last years? Perhaps I could sell my films too. I smiled at the thought.

  “They don’t suit you,” Ronan said, seeing me wipe my watering eyes again. “I’ll miss your true color while it’s hidden away. But you’ll get used to them soon enough.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I said resentfully, ducking my head so he didn’t see me smile over his partial compliment.

  “And if they keep you safe — ”

  “I know, Ronan, I know.”

  “You’ll stay close to me, right? With what’s ahead …”

  “Right by you,” I promised.

  He smiled down at me, his expression like a gentle hug, and I gave him a small smile in return.

  As we walked, we found out that Vidar and Bellona had narrowly escaped two other Sheolite scouts at the Hour of our Call.

  “How’d they know, boss?” Vidar tossed out in Raniero’s direction. “How’d they know to be here, in the Valley, at that time?”

  Niero turned and walked backward, his dark eyes flicking from one to the other of us. “The Sheolites have never been far from our valley’s door. They routinely sent scouts, seeking you out, and I, aided by your trainers, routinely denied them. But last night, when you were revealed, when they could fully sense you as Ailith, we could not be everywhere at once.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his full lips. “Rest assured, we were busy taking care of many others.” With that, he turned and continued walking, and I stared at the twin, crescent-shaped blades on his back, imagining them at work cutting down our enemy. Was it thanks to Niero that we all reached the Citadel at all? How long had he been our silent guardian?

  “Wait,” I said, hurrying forward, past Vidar. Niero glanced over his shoulder at me, then turned forward again, never pausing. “So you … You knew our trainer? Is he well?”

  “I know not. His mission is completed. He was to relocate immediately, as were your parents.”

  I swallowed hard, disappointed that he couldn’t reassure me. And at mention of my parents, I frowned. If there had been so many Sheolites in the Valley last night

  I slowed, and Vidar nudged me with a playful smile. “Chin up, sis. We have deserts to cross. Enemies to slay. Horrific cities to explore. Impossible missions to accomplish.”

  “You’re the one who is impossible,” Bellona grumbled, frowning from me to him. I felt her motherly concern and knew I must look scared, stressed. “Can you please shut up?”

  “Ahh, you’d miss the sound of my voice, Bellie, if I did,” Vidar said cheerfully.

  “Don’t call me that,” she growled.

  And Vidar tossed me a wry grin. Clearly, he knew just how to agitate her.

  We eventually reached the mouth of the Valley at noon and stopped to eat. Dried meat, along with Mudhorse Weed — long, slimy grasses we competed with the beasts for, but we ate ours only after it’d been dried by the fires and salted. The horses gladly waded in, chewing the wet cud like the moose of old. The meal ended with a single slice of dried orange from some distant land. I’d not had one for years and took tiny bites of it, letting it reconstitute and melt across my tongue.

  “Pine needle tea,” Niero said, offering me a
cup. “Keeps us well. Guards against the Cancer, as well as the Scurves.”

  I accepted the tea, but what I wanted was another slice of orange from the few he had left in his hand. And secretly, I hoped that as an Ailith we’d be granted additional shares in the days to come. Maybe this Call won’t be all bad, I thought, sitting back and popping the last of my slice into my mouth. Though who am I fooling? I thought, daring to look Ronan’s way. There wasn’t anywhere else I could possibly be. The thought of him leaving, going without me somewhere … Well, it was pretty much impossible to imagine.

  And yet for all our years of training, this was the longest period of time we’d spent together. We’d had nights in which we trained. Afternoons. Mornings. But not all through a night and into a day. And it felt good, so good, to be with him that long. To know we didn’t have to separate soon. As if we were escaping, getting away with something. Even if we were heading into the lion’s den.

  “What’s a lion’s den?” I said to Ronan, the words running back through my mind. It was a phrase I’d heard my dad say forever, and I knew it meant danger. But I didn’t understand the image itself. “A place the lions rested back in the olden days?”

  Ronan shrugged.

  “Yes. Often a cave,” Niero said, from ahead of us.

  I nodded, a little embarrassed by my naïve question. At least I knew what a lion was, having read about them as a child, as they’d long since vanished from the earth. But Niero was kind in his response; no judgment in his tone or words. For all the education afforded me as an Ailith — from birth onward by my mom and dad, intent on the task — it had been mostly reading and writing and arithmetic. Critical thinking. Pre-Great War history, seven generations past, from a basic children’s book yellow with age and long parted from its binding. From that time forward they’d taught me oral history, as best they knew. There’d been precious few sources on the wildlife that once roamed our earth before the bombs fell and destroyed so many or eventually choked them with poison. Fewer resources still on geography, none of which my parents could ever lay hands on, forcing them to teach me from what they could remember.