Guardian of the Vale

by Shoemaker,Tamara

  A broad smile broke out across Manders's face, and a collective breath of relief sighed across the clearing. “They did it,” Manders said. “I knew they would.”

  Alayne wended through the gathering crowd to stand next to Manders. “Are they all right? How did they do it?”

  A petite, dark-skinned girl shrugged. “It was mind stuff. Somehow—I don't know how—they'd managed to resist a powerful Shadow-Cast, and then used it to break the mind-link the Casters had with one another. Since the Casters were linked—the only way to subdue such a large number of people—when they broke one Cast, they broke all of them at the same time. And then it was just a bunch of angry ex-Casted swarming over the Casters.”

  Another subdued cheer erupted through the clearing.

  “So they're okay.” Alayne's gaze pleaded with the women. “They didn't get hurt in the struggle.”

  Cornrows nodded. “Nothing more than a few bruises. The girl sent the three of us to let you know they'd be where you wanted them tomorrow evening before it all began.”

  “But—the girl—Marysa—had a mirror—” Alayne began.

  All three women shook their heads. “It got misplaced,” Cornrows said. “Someone—the girl didn't know who, but likely an Alliance member—must have gotten hold of it.”

  Alayne and Manders pulled in a simultaneous gasp. If the Alliance had access to a mirror, they'd use it to see the Last Orders—or at least to see Alayne. Alayne closed her fist over the mirror piece in her pocket.

  “But none of the Alliance members escaped,” Cornrows said, “so we know that the mirror piece hasn't gone to Clayborne. They conducted a body search of all the Casters, but nothing came up.”

  The momentary relief Alayne had felt at the first news melted beneath her dread again. Had Marysa simply dropped the mirror by accident? What if the mirror piece somehow got through enemy lines into the wrong hands?

  Her stomach twisted into a sickening spiral.

  “At any rate, Marysa wanted us to tell you that everything is going according to plan, and they'll be in their designated spot by tomorrow evening, prepared for battle.”

  Manders nodded. “Thank you for bringing us the news. I must say, it's better than I had hoped. You three may join our company, then. We're bedding here for the night and will continue in the morning.”

  The group dispersed. Alayne turned to Manders, whose shoulders nearly sagged with freedom from worry. He caught her eye. “Well, that turned out better than I expected,” he murmured as his mouth creased into a smile.

  “But sir, the mirror—”

  “I know.” His eyebrows drew together again. “It's something to be aware of. I'd suggest, Alayne, that you keep yours in your pocket and don't take it out unless you hear Marysa's voice from it.”

  Alayne pulled her hand from her pocket, resisting the urge to try to see Marysa's face in the sliver again. She'd look at it again later when Manders wasn't around. “Yes, sir.”

  The expected group of Last Orders from the north finally arrived around midnight. They bled from the trees, dark shadows slipping silently into the clearing around the outcropping, their faces grim and stern.

  Alayne watched them from the top of the rocks, where she perched on a makeshift bed she'd fashioned for herself. As more people filled the clearing, hope fluttered through her. True, there were only hundreds here, and another few thousand nearer Clayborne on both the east and west sides of it. Marysa and Jayme would be bringing thousands of newly unCasted people to battle—untrained, but thoroughly angry—and Rachyl had been instructed to free the Casted beneath Clayborne during the upcoming battle. Surely, so many would have some chance of victory, even if it were a microscopic one.

  But the Alliance has a hundred thousand; even if half are Shadow-Casted, that's still overwhelming odds. She ground her thoughts to a halt, determined not to squash hope if she could have even a little.

  A footstep sounded on the rock behind her, and Alayne knew without looking that it was Daymon.

  He made no mention of the conversation he'd overheard between her and Manders earlier in the day. He lay next to her makeshift pallet, locking his fingers behind his head, staring silently at the stars as they appeared in the clear, night sky.

  He was angry with her, she knew. Desperate, even, to stop her from what she had to do. She rubbed her finger self-consciously over the tiny scar that marked the entrance the Vale had taken into her body.

  What would it have been like simply to be a Water-Wielder? She could have grown up not knowing if she had Elemental tendencies, just like any other Elemental—could have gone to school without a target on her back simply because she happened to have what someone else wanted. Is that what a normal life would have looked like?

  She flopped onto the pallet. The warmth from Daymon's body seeped into her skin. She shivered. “Daymon?” She turned her head and studied his profile.

  He grunted. His eyes were still open, glistening in the light of the spangled sky.

  “What's your favorite color?”

  “What?” He shifted his head to stare at her.

  “What's your favorite color?”

  “Umm, green, I guess. Why?”

  “Why is green your favorite color? What's your lucky number?” The questions spilled out of Alayne. “When did you learn to swim, and where? Did you ever have a tree house? Were you like most boys and liked to play with fire?” More and more questions flooded her mind, but Daymon sat up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a sitting position. He gripped her shoulder.

  “Layne,” he interrupted, “what's going on?”

  Alayne lifted her gaze to the heavens and sighed heavily. “Do you realize we've never bothered to find these things out, Daymon? I mean, we haven't even covered basics that should be a random course of conversation between friends. Ever since we've known each other, it's either been intense dislike or drama and destruction. Never the simple things.”

  Daymon scooted closer, his shoulder pressing against hers. He hooked his arms around his knees. “Okay, green, because it's the color of your eyes, seven, four years old, in the creek about a mile up from your house, no, but I always secretly wanted one, and fire's okay. I probably would have liked it better if I had been a Fire-Breather.”

  Alayne glanced sideways at him and then sheepishly dropped her gaze. “Sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Don't be. It's kinda nice to find out that you really are interested in where I come from.”

  Alayne said nothing, though the silence felt weighted. She struggled with handling this time, likely her last few days on CommonEarth. Even if she survived the battle, she intended to destroy the Vale, which meant her death, as Daymon had said. Daymon clearly wanted to open the carefully sealed doors on their relationship, but what was the point, really?

  “Hey.” Daymon lifted one hand to her face. He stilled, and Alayne's breath caught in her throat. His dark eyes were intent on hers as he slid a short curl behind her ear. “Happy birthday, Layne.”

  His voice was deep and rough and filled with unspoken promises.

  The morning brought more confusion and disorder before Manders and some of the higher-ranking Last Orders organized the company. The last tally before breakfast brought their total to eight hundred and forty—a large group to travel secretly through the forest. More shuttles were to arrive within the hour, and Manders wanted the company placed according to their elements. Air-Masters were to go first, followed by Water-Wielders. Fire-Breathers would follow, and last of all, Earth-Movers would bring up the rear.

  Alayne watched the melee from her rock. Daymon had disappeared to help organize, and Alayne used the confusion to head into the woods. Guilt whispered a frantic tempo in her head with every step she took, but she stuffed it out of sight. She had to know if Marysa was okay. She trudged through the underbrush until she was nearly out of sight of the clearing, stepped behind a tree, and pulled the mirror from her pocket.

  “Let me see Marysa,” she breathed into it. As alway
s her reflection swirled into blackness. Alayne's shoulders slumped.

  A shaft of light across the black surface pulled a gasp from her, and then a close-up view of a palm flashed.

  A second later, Kyle's unmistakable freckled face stared at Alayne, and Alayne stared back in horror.

  Unfreezing her fingers, she swiped the image away, and her own reflection replaced Kyle's. Stuffing the mirror piece into her pocket, she swallowed her nausea. Kyle had the mirror. The traitor had the mirror. Was he trying to spy on them? How had he gotten it from Marysa? If he had the mirror, where was Marysa? Was she still all right?

  Kyle's voice emanating from her pants slit the silence, and Alayne clapped her hand over the pocket.

  “Layne. Layne, c'mon, let's talk. Let me explain.”

  Alayne slid her fingers into her pocket and swiped across its surface again without removing it, and Kyle's voice cut off. Now she didn't know what to do: crush the mirror? Bury it? Keep it? What if Kyle kept trying to contact her through it?

  But the mirror stayed silent, and gradually, Alayne's breaths slowed, though her worry didn't abate. What would Kyle do with the mirror?

  Alayne took three steady breaths and rounded the tree to return to the camp.

  A massive orange and black-striped tiger stood in her way, a deep rumble shuddering through his throat.

  With a terrified squeak, Alayne froze in place.

  Chapter 20

  The animal was larger than she'd dreamed one could be; most tigers on the pages of books looked big, but nothing had prepared her for the size of the wildcat's teeth as his mouth opened in a massive yawn. The beast's orange and black mask moved as his eyes blinked at her. After a moment's regard, the tiger crouched backward on his haunches, forelegs stretching forward along the ground. He settled himself to the forest floor with a heavy thud, his huge tongue licking up across his nose.

  Alayne blinked. All instincts screamed at her to run, to hurl a ball of fire and get out of there, but her legs refused to obey.

  As she stood, paralyzed, a thought slipped through her brain like sand through a sieve; it floated for a moment before she dismissed it as ridiculous. Still, it returned.

  Terrified, but fascinated, she tested her idea.

  Get up, she thought.

  The great beast immediately rose, blinking at her as he stood on his four legs.

  A shiver of fear, tinged with excitement, coursed through Alayne.

  Walk in a circle.

  The tiger lowered his head, his footfalls silent in the foliage. He turned in a complete circle, stopping when he faced Alayne again.

  Alayne took a deep breath. Come, lick my hand, but don't hurt me. She held out trembling fingers in front of her, wondering and hoping, fearful and excited.

  The tiger moved forward. His expression looked almost bored. A moment later, he dropped his huge muzzle to her hand, his great tongue sliding out. He swiped once across her palm and then retracted. He backed away again.

  Alayne resisted the impulse to dance a victory jig. She needed to show Daymon and Manders this.

  Come with me, and don't hurt anyone.

  The tiger padded forward, his orange and black-striped side so close to her, Alayne could run her fingers through his fur. She resisted, not sure if he would enjoy it or not, and she didn't want to upset him.

  They neared the area of the woods where the rest of the company still gathered, everyone loading their packs and milling around as they joined their various Elemental groups. The enormous rock on which Alayne had slept the night before appeared through the tree trunks. Daymon stood in the clearing, his arms crossed over his chest, peering into the woods as if he were waiting for her. He spotted her before she could enter the area. His cry of alarm rang through the camp.

  “Alayne!”

  Heads swung their way; the harp of elements suddenly zinged with the electricity of a hundred hands.

  “No, wait!” Alayne shouted frantically. The tiger paused beside her, sinking into a defensive crouch, his long fangs bared. A low rumble issued from his throat. “He's not going to hurt anyone. And we can't hurt him.”

  The scene was a motionless tableau; no one moved for several heartbeats. Alayne slowly lowered her hands, motioning the tiger forward. The cat seemed hesitant, but he straightened his legs and padded into the clearing next to Alayne.

  Those who stood too close stumbled backward several paces. Angry mutters swept through the onlookers.

  “What's going on, Alayne?” Manders stepped forward, his voice tight with tension, his gaze on the tiger.

  “He—listens to me. He'll do what I say.” Manders's sharp glance flicked across Alayne before returning to the beast. He frowned.

  Alayne swung her gaze to Daymon's, pleading silently with him for sympathy. “I told him to lick my hand in the woods, and he did.”

  Manders stared at the tiger, and the silence wore on as the expressions played across his face. Slowly, he nodded. “I've always wondered if this would be a possibility, Alayne—the wild hearts of animals have always been drawn to the Vale; it's a part of the powerful earth element.”

  Not many in the crowd of Last Orders heard Manders's words. Dark muttering matched black looks as the tension tightened. The harp of elements still vibrated with the energy of many Elemental hands.

  Alayne lightly touched the tiger's fur. The great cat didn't even flinch. “So ... if it's a part of the earth element, then we can use him. Them. All of them.” She stroked the fur gently. “We're far outnumbered in manpower against Tarry, but what if we had help from the animal kingdom?”

  Manders's look turned thoughtful. “On how many animals have you tested your abilities?”

  “Just the tiger so far, but I see wild animals around all the time. It won't be hard to find another one or two to test.” She looked down at the tiger. “So you think—this is why I've seen—why so many wild animals always seem to find me? The Vale? Because of the earth element?”

  Before Manders could offer an opinion, a voice interrupted him. “You can't risk our lives that way.” A black-haired woman stood in the crowd next to the treeline, her eyes riveted to the tiger. “How do we know it'll be absolutely obedient to everything she says? What if he decides he's too hungry to listen anymore? I'm not going into battle with that thing.”

  Several nods rippled through the crowd. Manders held up a hand. “Nothing has to be decided at this moment. However, let me point out that Alayne does make a valid argument; the animal population would greatly increase our numbers, as well as our chances of winning. Let's take this bit of new information and mull it over as we continue forward. Then, perhaps if Alayne can prove that she does indeed have control over the animal population to our satisfaction, we can move on from there.”

  The loud silence that followed this proposal gradually gave way to nods of assent. “As long as she can prove it,” the black-haired woman muttered. “You better offer something rock-solid, girl. I don't aim to be any tiger's dinner.”

  Alayne wasn't nearly as confident as she sounded to Manders and the rest. Sure, the tiger had shocked her, and as she watched him slink back into the forest at her command, she wondered if it would be the same with the other wild animals she saw on a regular basis. To make any amount of difference, she would need to get high numbers, and what would happen if the tiger were the exception rather than the rule?

  The shuttles arrived after completing their task of carrying several Last Order companies into position on the western perimeter. When the crafts had settled on the sloping, grassy area, the Last Orders filled them up, one by one, seating themselves on the floor, the seats, even standing against the walls where there was space. Many more were present than when they'd arrived in the clearing thanks to the extra forces that had come. Alayne found a space on the floor near the emergency exit at the back. Daymon wedged himself next to her, his shoulders resting against the door.

  Manders had decided against invisibility this time. A settled rain had crept in w
hile the company was loading, and the cloud cover would hide the shuttles on their flight closer to the spire. Alayne was glad; it was unnerving talking to Daymon when she couldn't read the expressions flickering in his eyes.

  Daymon reached for her hip and slid her black steel blade from its sheath, running his fingers along the edge, checking its keenness. “You did a good job with this, Layne.” He raised the blade to his jawline and drew it along his skin, the rough, scratchy sound at variance with the murmur of voices throughout the shuttle. “I'll trade you mine for yours.” He winked at her.

  Alayne appreciated his attempt to lighten the somber mood that had stolen over the whole company. Everything had been too serious lately. She snorted. “Why? So you can shave with it every morning? I didn't make it to cut hair.” Alayne reached for it and flipped it through her own fingers, watching the black steel catch the light from the windows. She tossed it in the air. It arced in two complete rotations before thumping satisfactorily into her palm once more.

  Daymon watched her knife-play as he hugged his knees with his arms. The people sitting on the floor in front of him kept his huge frame in a cramped position. “So, have you decided what you're going to do?”

  “What about?” Alayne tossed the knife again. The woman on Alayne's other side flinched each time the knife left Alayne's palm.

  “About the tiger. The animals.”

  The woman flinched again. With a sigh of impatience, Alayne slid the knife back into the sheath, irritated when the woman visibly relaxed.

  “I don't know. I'm still experimenting. We'll see when we arrive if anything's going to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I sent the tiger away this morning, I requested that he bring as many other tigers as he could to our destination. I don't see it being very successful, especially because tigers, at least from what I've heard, are pretty territorial.”