Seer's Hope

by Anderson, Maree

  “Strangely, no one from the First Settlement has been affected,” Dayamar said. “Yet. Varon believes this is due to my influence. He is adamant I should not leave the settlement but I see no other choice. The Usehani were first to be affected by this scourge, so we will come to you to see what else might be discovered. Tell Nerraya to expect us late this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Sehan Dayamar.” Daryon’s gut-wrenching dismay at hearing of the other victims was tempered by desperate hope that with Dayamar’s presence, the rest of his own people might yet be saved.

  “Have you two finished yet?” Hope’s voice interjected.

  “Yes, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Daryon watched, mesmerized, as Dayamar’s features faded and the sphere became opaque.

  She blinked rapidly and shook herself like a wet wolf. “Oh, that’s better. Being shunted off to the side like that is ghastly. It feels like I’ve been possessed—not that I’ve ever been possessed but I imagine this is what it would feel like.” She uncurled her legs and shuffled off the sleeping platform.

  Daryon eyed the sphere bobbing in mid-air behind her. It seemed rather… agitated. “Um, Hope? Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  “What?”

  “That sphere you conjured up seems to be trying to… uh… get your attention.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oops.” She cupped both hands and, like a fish to water, the sphere was drawn to them. A tiny frown creased her brow.

  He watched the sphere shrink until with a tiny pop! it vanished.

  “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I intruded. It was unforgivable.”

  “No real harm done, Daryon.” She grinned wickedly at him. “And I won’t erase your memory of it either.”

  “You can do that?” he asked, stunned to his marrow.

  “Yes—although it takes some skill, I’m told. I’ve never tried it before and I’d hate to mess up and accidentally wipe a whole month of your memories.”

  Daryon secretly figured it would be worth the risk if it took away his nightmares.

  Chapter Twenty

  Not even the brisk wind could dispel the lingering reek. It permeated buildings, clothing, and even hair, allowing no one respite from their painful memories. Even birds and crickets had deserted the area. Hope longed to escape the stench and the oppressive quiet, but the Usehani needed her.

  Because she was a stranger to them, she’d not felt comfortable confronting the grieving survivors with offers of help. She’d resorted to casting out her mind and “fishing” for those who would most benefit from a psychic healing boost. A swift dart of energy and she was gone before her patient could notice anything untoward. It was an inefficient method of providing assistance. Sighing, she bent her mind to the task of helping another despair-ridden mind to heal—this time, face-to-face.

  “Naytan.” Her voice echoed unnaturally loudly in the deathly quiet. “I know this is a lot to ask of you, but before we go to this meeting Nerraya has called would you tell me exactly what happened while Daryon was away? I’d like to hear your version, please, uncolored by the opinions of others.” And it might ease his burden to talk to someone.

  The healer snorted. “Nice try. But talking about it isn’t going to help.”

  She snagged his forearm with her hand and tugged him to a halt. “I’ve lost people I loved. Sometimes I fear the guilt will crush me.”

  He didn’t respond so she took it as permission to continue. “My whole family died in an accident.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Hope. But how does that make you—?”

  “I survived.”

  He remained silent for a long moment, and then he blew out a weary breath. “The first cases were a month ago. Six people, all within hours of each other. The next week, another six cases. I tried every cure I could think of but nothing worked. Their bodies were in perfect working order, but they seemed… emptied of their personalities. And each victim’s face was frozen in an expression of terrible pain. Some of my trainees could hardly bear to tend them. It was awful.

  “After a few days, the first lot of victims stopped breathing. We thought it might have been some form of poisoning and took every step we could think of. But then the others died in the same way. Things began to escalate from there, with new sets of victims every few days—always in groups of six. That’s when Daryon took off to fetch you.”

  Fear clawed her heart. She swallowed once, twice, struggling to keep a neutral face. If she let the fear have its way she’d be too paralyzed to act. “What else?”

  “Geramar had some theories.”

  “Geramar.” She closed her eyes, reliving his sacrifice to give her the information she needed.

  “It was hoped he would become a Sehan but it was not to be,” Naytan said quietly. “You might have met his son? Gerayne?”

  Ah. The man who’d assisted her after her encounter with Willem. “Yes.”

  “Geramar was an historian with a passion for anything to do with Sehani. He kept his eyes and ears open—especially around Dayamar—and he’d gleaned information not known by the general populace. He was an asset to our settlement. Before he was… struck down, he told me about an ancient healing journal documenting a group of people afflicted with similar symptoms. I was going to make it public at the meeting tonight.”

  “Tell me now. It could be important.”

  “Geramar told me when the Panakeya of that era couldn’t find a physical cause for the sickness he enlisted the aid of their Sehan. The Sehan couldn’t detect any trace of their souls on this plane of existence. However, when he searched the spiritual dimension, he couldn’t find a trace of them there, either. Their souls hadn’t passed onward, as should happen when people die. Eventually he found them in some sort of limbo. It was as though something had cut each soul off from its physical body, and the body was no longer a priority. Geramar found a passage suggesting the state was self-inflicted.”

  She heard the chafing of clothing and guessed Naytan was briskly rubbing his arms. She risked probing his surface thoughts. He’d seen patients die with dignity and a smile, secure in their belief that death was merely a continuation of a great journey. But to be trapped in limbo, unable to pass on and find peace in the gods’ embrace? That was the stuff of nightmares. And so much worse to deliberately court such a state. It was a horror he could barely bring himself to contemplate.

  She understood his revulsion. “Naytan?”

  He patted her hand. “I’m fine. The record told of six victims only. But in light of the way our people succumbed—in groups of six at a time, Geramar thought the passage might be significant.”

  “Did the record tell what happened to those six people?”

  “That’s the bizarre thing. Although he searched for many years, Geramar told me he couldn’t find records of their burials. There’s a brief entry from their Sehan sometime later indicating he refused to give up hope of finding a cure, and in the meantime, he’d isolated them somewhere and was caring for their bodily needs. The final mention of them is three months after that—an entry by their Panakeya noting no significant change in their circumstances. After that, nothing. Gods only know what happened to them.”

  An idea pricked her mind but before she ran it past him she’d need to verify a few things. And talk to Dayamar. She dug her fingertips into her temples.

  “Do you have a headache, Hope?”

  “No. It’s been a tough couple of days.”

  “I’m sorry Daryon’s men were so rough.”

  “It wasn’t entirely their fault,” she felt compelled to admit. “I’m not completely used to my powers yet. Sometimes things just happen and I don’t know why or how. It’s very frustrating. I mean, I got angry because Daryon’s men were scaring the young man I was with, and next thing I’d flattened them. It was like my emotion turned into a physical weapon.”

  He harrumphed beneath his breath. “It can happen that way with those who come to their powers lat
e,” he said. “If Sehani abilities manifest early they’re easier to control. Young people are still unconsciously absorbing new things and it’s just a matter of re-channeling certain instinctual behaviors. The older one is, the more set in one’s ways, and the harder to accept and control the power before reacting.”

  She fist-punched the air. “Yes!”

  “What’s got you all fired up?” he asked.

  “That’s the best explanation yet for everything that’s happened to me since becoming a Sehan.”

  “It’s merely conjecture, of course. I don’t pretend to be an expert. Come on. We’re going to be late if we don’t get a move on.” He tucked her arm in his and walked her to the healing hall.

  As they approached Hope heard several voices—Daryon’s among them—raised in heated disagreement. The argument broke off the instant she and Naytan entered the room.

  She scanned each person and quickly identified Daryon, Rikard, Martyn and the other men involved with her abduction. There were a dozen others also present. Delicately she dipped into each person’s public mind to glean a few details. The predominant emotion she detected was hope. From one woman, however, she sensed only pain and a barely suppressed hatred. The others automatically deferred to her. This must be Nerraya, the settlement’s co-leader.

  Hope advanced upon the woman with her hand outstretched. “I greet you, Leader Nerraya. I’m Hope, Second Sehan of the Dayamari.”

  Nerraya clasped her hand and released it quickly. “Welcome, Sehan. Since you claim to be blind, allow me to introduce you to the tradespeople. This is—”

  “Thank you, Leader Nerraya, but introductions will not be necessary.” Time to assert herself. She addressed the person standing next to Nerraya and pulled his name from his mind. “I greet you, Mayson.” The man stammered a response and she moved on to the next person, continuing until she had greeted each by name.

  “Naytan has schooled you well on tonight’s attendees.” Nerraya’s tone reeked of sarcasm.

  She decided not to let that slur pass, either. She shrugged. “I’m sure Naytan would have done just that if he hadn’t had more pressing matters to discuss.”

  Nerraya stalked off with an audible huff.

  Daryon nudged her. “Don’t take it personally, Hope. Nerraya dislikes Sehani in general.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Shorten it. I need to understand the reasons behind her hostility.”

  “Nerraya was once a settlement elder. She set her sights on Dayamar, but Dayamar rebuffed her advances. He’s always stayed aloof from personal relationships. Nerraya took it badly. She publicly announced that Sehani would never be effective spiritual leaders if they didn’t take life-partners, and continued to hold themselves separate from the very people they were supposed to help and advise. Dayamar never rebuked her but the other elders were so embarrassed they voted her out. Eventually she left and came to us. She’s a fair leader, despite her prejudices.”

  “She should wholeheartedly approve of me then.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She extracted her kuruvinda necklace from beneath her tunic. “Even though I’m Sehani, I’m Promised to Blayne.”

  His sigh ruffled her hair. “If only it were that easy. Nerraya holds her prejudices close. I can’t see her changing her opinion after all this time.”

  “Did Blayne give you that?” Naytan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s beautiful. Blayne never does anything by halves.”

  “Uh oh,” Daryon said. “Nerraya’s managed to upset someone else. I’d better go talk to her.” He rushed off to perform damage control.

  “Do you know Blayne well, Naytan?” Hope asked.

  “Yes.”

  She wondered why the healer sounded so terse and closed, but was distracted by a loud argument that shouted to be noticed.

  “Unacceptable!” someone screeched. “She’s blind. What possible use is she to us?”

  She heard Naytan gulp. “Hope,” he said, “it might be best if you—”

  Too late. Nerraya had already descended on her like an avenging angel. “Girl, if you’re so damn powerful, why are you standing here yapping? What are you doing to save the rest of our people?”

  Daryon was hot on his co-leader’s heels. “We brought her here, Nerraya,” he said. “The very least we can do is give her every assistance. Otherwise, why did we bother to snatch her in the first place?”

  “I agree.” Naytan’s voice was hoarse with rage. “We couldn’t do anything to save those other poor souls. So what do you expect us to do, Nerraya? Send her home? Stand by and do nothing while the rest of our people are struck down? Let her try to help us, for gods’ sakes!”

  “How?” Nerraya ranted. “Look at her! She’s useless.”

  Hope channeled the fury churning in the pit of her stomach and released it. “Enough!” Her roar boiled from her throat, took on a life of its own and smashed a couple of large pottery containers that had been sitting in a corner to smithereens.

  Complete and utter silence greeted her.

  Unwilling to publicly admit she couldn’t fully control her Sehani power, she decided to brazen it out. “Now I’ve got your attention…. I understand how you feel. Truly. I’m strong in Sehani power but this is way out of my league. And that’s why I’ve asked Dayamar to assist. He arrives tomorrow.”

  “Dayamar?” Nerraya said. “I don’t think so. He—”

  “Nerraya,” Daryon interrupted, “believe me, bringing Dayamar here is absolutely necessary. So before he arrives, let’s all calm down and discuss what we’ve discovered so far.”

  “Do what you like, Daryon. As you always do.” And Hope didn’t need to see to know that the co-leader had stalked from the hall.

  ~~~

  Nerraya bit down hard on her lower lip. The small sharp pain did nothing to stem her agitation. Beside her, Daryon fidgeted and snatches of whispered conversations drifted to her ears. She wished they would all show some modicum of control. She was on the brink of snapping at everyone to be still but then they would know she was nervous. She allowed herself a tiny shift of weight to ease her aching back and contented herself with glaring at the young Sehani female.

  Arrogant creature.

  The girl stood with her eyes closed, serene and oblivious. “They’re here,” she said, and Nerraya’s eyes widened as a patch of air shuddered. The patch then shimmered, and the shimmer expanded to a globule of around seven foot high and four foot wide. Shiny and translucent, it reminded Nerraya of a gigantic bubble.

  The bubble bulged outward. Nerraya shrank back as it stretched tight across a shape. A human shape.

  One by one, people burst through. She recognized Dayamar, Panakeya Blayne, and Taran, the Master Tracker. Three more men pushed through and then two women, one a plump blonde and the other a striking female who instantly drew male eyes. Nerraya’s nostrils flared. That one looked like trouble.

  The bubble shrank and then burst, dispersing in a fine rain-like haze of moisture.

  She stiffened her spine but before she could even formulate a greeting, Blayne shouldered past her.

  She turned to see what, or who, could be more important than herself. And was stunned to see the Panakeya sweep the young Sehan off her feet and kiss her. The relief on his face as he hugged the young woman, and the answering tears in the girl’s eyes, convinced Nerraya as nothing else would have that the two were deeply in love.

  A Sehan in love? Astounding.

  She abruptly realized she was gaping. She was bracing herself to greet Dayamar when Blayne set the girl down. He advanced on Nerraya. The expression on his face promised physical violence. Heart in her mouth, she shuffled back, cringing, but he brushed past her to confront Daryon.

  The force of his blow laid Daryon out on the ground.

  “Blayne, that’s enough!” Dayamar barked.

  Blayne extended a hand as Daryon sat up, fingering his jaw. “No hard feelings
?”

  Daryon clasped his hand. “I was going to let her go. She insisted otherwise.”

  Blayne favored him with a narrow-eyed, searching look before glancing back at the young Sehan. “She can be quite willful.” He hauled Daryon to his feet. “It’s good to see you again, Daryon. It’s been too long. I’m only sorry it had to be in these circumstances.”

  The two men slapped each other on the back and then Daryon pulled away to massage his jaw.

  “I might have hit you harder than I intended,” Blayne said.

  “You never were one to pull your punches.”

  Men. Nerraya snorted. They acted ridiculously at times. She would never understand them.

  “Let me take a look at it,” Blayne was saying. “Least I can do.”

  “I think you’ve caused enough damage, Panakeya.” Naytan pushed forward, his posture screaming a challenge.

  “Healer Naytan.” Blayne inclined his head.

  Naytan manipulated Daryon’s jaw this way and that. “How’s it feel now?”

  Daryon jutted his jaw and experimentally contorted his face. “Much better.”

  Blayne clapped the healer on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, too, Naytan. It’s no surprise to me you’ve become primary healer here. I always knew you had the potential. We were sorry to lose you.”

  “I was sorry to go. But I just couldn’t stay after….” Naytan’s voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

  “Losing a patient is hard,” Blayne said. “And the first is always the worst. Unfortunately it’s something we all must learn to cope with. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist practicing healing again, though. It’s in your blood.”

  Nerraya had always wondered what had prompted a skilled healer like Naytan to leave his settlement. They’d not even realized he was a healer until there’d been a serious accident and no one had known what to do. Naytan hadn’t been able to stand by and watch the man suffer. He’d stepped in and saved his life.

  “The Usehani are lucky to have you, Naytan.”

  “Yes, we are,” Daryon said. “And he’s ours. Hands off.”

  “Don’t worry,” Blayne said. “Besides, what could I offer him that he doesn’t already have?”