Gambit of the Gods

by Ashley, Angela

  I feel as if my heart might burst. All my questions melt away, leaving only devotion and awe. She must be a goddess. I’ve never seen the Spirit Over All, but she’s unmistakably real.

  “Yes!”

  The smile she gives me is both triumphant and approving. Caressing my soul once more, her image begins to fade, though she still gazes lovingly at me. The fire flares again, and she is gone.

  Swift Blaze helps me stand, but I can hardly bear my own weight so he eases me back down onto the log. Clansmen and clanswomen crowd around me, quietly praising me or just gripping my shoulder briefly. I feel surrounded by something greater than family. It’s a feeling I know I will never forget. I finally, truly belong.

  Fiery Grace steps into view, her lovely eyes shining with pride. I stand up, strengthened by the sight, and limp over to her.

  “Welcome to The Higher Path, Spark,” she rejoices, beaming.

  Taking my hand, she turns it palm side up. Everyone around me sighs in approval. For there, on my wrist, is a mark, black outlined in red: a pair of wings upraised with a dark star cupped between them. Each feather burns like a tongue of flame. “You bear the Lady’s mark, both on your skin, and on your soul,” Fiery Grace breathes.

  Standing there, looking into her eyes, I fervently promise myself, I’ll do whatever it takes to serve the Lady.

  Chapter 14: Sera

  Wordlessly, Wilde and I watch Jaereth and Kella walk away from us, hand in hand, through the darkening forest.

  The last few days have been a nightmare—I had no idea Wilde’s dangerous young Chosen has been following mine. And now, Jaereth is using the ability I helped give him to manipulate and control her!

  To make things worse, before I had a chance to step out of Kella, she and Jaereth were kissing, and Wilde and I experienced it as if we were kissing each other. Our souls touched so intimately.

  I’ve never been kissed by anyone before because I’ve always scrupulously avoided men in the past. Now Wilde, of all men—this annoyingly arrogant, roguish, infuriating man—is my first kiss, not that I’m ever telling him that!

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me your Chosen has been stalking mine!” I fume. Wilde has the decency to look embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry, truly. I honestly thought it was harmless. He’s always just watched her, with no intent to do anything other than that. But the other day in the Marketplace, something in him changed when he saw Kella smile. Even then, I just thought he was afraid for her safety because of the uprising…”

  “Oh, come on!” I interrupt heatedly, “don’t play dumb with me. You must have sensed Jaereth’s feelings for her.”

  “No!” He shakes his head emphatically. “It was just a game to him at first—he just wanted to see if he could make someone he didn’t know do what he wanted. She wasn’t even the first person he made smile at him that day. But when she grinned at him—something just clicked in the boy. After that, it was too late.”

  I start to point something out, but Wilde cuts me off.

  “Look Sera, can’t you see that this may be for the best?”

  My jaw drops. “What? They could both be hung for extreme acts of perversion, but it’s for the best?”

  He nods, though I feel his anxiety at the prospect. “That’s a very real concern,” he concedes, “but in another Fifth-Day, the slaves will rise up and overthrow the established order. When that happens, don’t you see that it would be best if Kella has a male protector? So she isn’t killed or raped with the rest?”

  I shut my mouth, seeing his point all too clearly. He lets me feel, for just a moment, what he’s feeling: crushing fear and deep sadness at the violence to come. And one other thing, before he shuts his emotions away from me—Wilde enjoyed the kiss, and he’s feeling more than a little smug about it.

  I realize in that moment that I feel similarly. I liked it, more than I would a random kiss. Am I beginning to have feelings for him? Does he have feelings for me?

  Hoping he hasn’t caught a glimpse, I lock my own emotions away as best as I can. Wilde is insufferable enough without that ego boost. Besides, I need time alone to process my feelings. There’s no way I’m letting him or anyone else hurt me, and he seems like exactly the type of man who would use a woman and then cast her aside after he’s had his fill.

  “You’re right, of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that your Chosen is coercing mine to do things she wouldn’t ordinarily do. How is that different from mental rape?”

  He doesn’t even blink. “Sera, Jaereth isn’t using his full ability on Kella. The last thing he wants is to turn her into a mindless lump.” He grins ruefully. “He’s having too much fun teasing her for that.” I glare, annoyed that he finds it amusing, but he ignores it.

  “She’s far from weak-minded,” he continues, (I almost hear him think the word ‘stubborn’, and smile proudly, unable to stop myself) “and we both felt her successfully fight his influence. From what I sense from Kella, she feels real attraction for Jaereth. His ability merely…takes away some of her cultural inhibitions towards acting on it.”

  He’s not wrong about the “real attraction” part, I muse—the way she was admiring his hair, his eyes, his arms, his hands, his voice…

  “Have you ever sensed physical attraction from her toward other girls?” Wilde asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  I search my memories of her interactions with girls her age. “No, but I just figured she was too young. Except—her best friend, Ellarin, she’s shown more than friendly interest in her a few times, but Kella has never acknowledged it.”

  “There you go,” he says, pleased. “I’ll do what I can to dissuade Jaereth from using his ability on Kella. I think that will come naturally anyway because he likes her strong-willed nature. But I think there’s something else to consider.” He raises an eyebrow, daring me to bite.

  Damn this man—why does he have to be so infernally good-looking? “And what is that?”

  “I think what brought our Chosen together was—us.”

  The shock and anger wash through me all over again. “What are you implying? I never wanted this to happen!”

  He makes a placating gesture with his hands, but I sense his amusement. “No, no, I didn’t mean that,” he says soothingly. “I just mean, how likely is it that our Chosen, out of all the Queensrealm’s men and women, should find themselves drawn to each another?”

  He has a point. But…

  “That day when Jaereth first noticed Kella—they accidentally brushed up against each other in a crowd, and she apologized,” he continues. “Maybe, like he said, he was just moved by her treating him like a human being. But Sera, in that moment, I remember feeling something flow between them at the point of contact—a pulse of energy, almost. I felt it again when we, I mean, when they touched and kissed. What if they feel it too, mistaking it for attraction when it’s really just our spirits reacting to each other?”

  I want to ask him something, but I don’t want to examine too closely why I’m asking it.

  “No doubt your spirit used to come into contact with Malyse’s all the time while you were her plaything,” I say innocently, feeling a bit smug myself when he bristles at my implication. “Did you feel this ‘pulse of energy’ then, too?”

  “No,” he says stiffly, and seeping from his mental shield I sense a very satisfactory amount of embarrassment, perhaps even shame. Good. What he did with that psychopath was horrifying. But if he recognizes it, maybe it was just a temporary lapse in good judgment.

  “My Chosen at the time never came into contact with hers,” he adds almost defensively. “I would never have allowed that,” he growls, “and she knew it.”

  “Well, Gideon and Lark’s Chosen have surely touched before, since Miklos is Little Squirrel’s father figure. It hasn’t made them attracted to one another.”

  “Thank goodness,” Wilde says vehemently, and I nod in fervent agreement. “But I think they told us there’s romantic interest between Lit
tle Squirrel and Spark. Maybe they’re drawn to each other for the same reason our Chosen are.”

  “Maybe,” I concede, and shrug. As a scientist, I’m skeptical of theories that can’t be proven. “I’m not sure what we can do about it, if so…”

  I trail off and look away from his eyes quickly, flushing. I’d swear his pupils just dilated while looking at my lips—no doubt thinking of that kiss.

  He sees my reaction and his smile widens, maddeningly, tauntingly, when I look back again. I give him my best glare, my fists balled at my sides.

  He chuckles, though not unkindly.

  “You make fists when you’re angry just like Kella does,” he murmurs, and steps closer, while I will myself to not step back. “It’s just as cute when you do it. I wish I could take your hands right now, smooth them out, kiss them, and tell them I mean you no harm. Depending on your definition of harm, I suppose.” His mind tentatively reaches out for mine…

  I want so desperately to let down my guard for once. To trust someone, and let Wilde into the high-walled fortress of my soul. He’s so handsome and intelligent, and he’s been so kind to Kella and me, past all expectation. He's been…my friend. Only—

  “I don’t know much about you,” I whisper, “and…I want to.” His mind pauses in its approach, his expression one of thwarted desire. “You’ve been a true friend to me,” I continue, pretending not to notice, “and friends should know more about one another. So—tell me about yourself. Please.”

  Now his fists are balling at his sides, I notice with veiled amusement.

  “What would you like to know?” he asks with forced patience.

  I tilt my head in thought. “Why do you act so cocky and arrogant all the time?”

  One corner of his mouth quirks upward. He surprises me with a serious answer.

  “It’s a self-defense mechanism I learned to hide my true feelings.”

  I smile to reward him for his honesty and ask, “What are your true feelings right now?”

  He hesitates, weighing his answer. “I feel…”

  An owl swoops silently down on a mouse cowering only a few steps from us. We hear its agonized squeak as the owner of those pitiless talons snatches it up and away.

  Wilde’s eyes seek out mine. “I feel like that mouse, sometimes,” he tells me quietly. “But I act like the owl instead.” For just a moment, he lets me see straight through to his soul. His wounds and walls remind me too well of my own. I reach for him with my mind, giving him the mental equivalent of a hug, and he hugs me back. We’re both surprised by it.

  “I feel like that mouse, too, all the time. Perhaps we’re not so different, you and I.” Sharing this level of honesty with someone is such a relief somehow. “I’m sorry I got mad at you for not warning me about Jaereth watching Kella.”

  We turn and head back in the direction of House Klia, side by side.

  “It’s okay; I understand,” he murmurs, glancing down at me as we walk. “You felt like a mouse.”

  We both start laughing. Something clicks into place in my heart. Tentatively, my mind reaches out. He meets me and we hold each other, mind-to-mind, our auras intermingling, our hearts open, united in longing, need, and wonder. We’ve both felt so terribly alone for so long, we realize together, and rejoice in the knowledge that we’ll never have to feel that way again, because we’ve found each other…at last.

  Chapter 15: Little Squirrel

  I wake, feeling energized and excited. Naira sleeps on in the warm indentation she’s made above where my head rested. The hut is dark, but I know it’s time for me to go.

  Slipping on my boots, I pad quietly across the hut, then pull back the flap and step outside. Inhaling deeply, I stand for a moment, reveling in the cool darkness all around me. The moon winks at me briefly before another cloud covers it. A few frogs are singing off and on, but otherwise, our Village is quiet.

  I make my way to the forest’s edge and step within it, taking my first step toward womanhood. My senses stretch out to make up for what my eyes cannot see in these moments just before dawn. Through the trees, I catch a glimpse of the constellation we call The Eagle, which ‘flies’ right over our Village at this time of night and year as it chases the constellation we call The Salmon in neverending hunger and frustration. It’s The Salmon constellation I’ve decided to navigate toward for the next several hours.

  Thanking these spirits in the sky for guiding me, I walk on through the silent trees, trailing my fingertips across their trunks in greeting. They are my brothers and sisters, as is everything else around me.

  I review my plan and the requirements for a successful Quest. It’s not required, nor encouraged, that I keep moving during my entire Quest. I must try not to sleep, for this helps the Vision come. I must not eat or drink until the Vision finds me. And I don’t want to travel so far that I lack the strength to make it back.

  So I’ll walk steadily until late afternoon, then look for a small clearing. There, I’ll pour the contents of the small, sealed pottery jar I brought with me all around it. It contains wolf urine—not from just any wolf, but urine donated by those of the Wolf Clan to help protect those going on Quests. It helps warn off natural predators so we can focus on our spiritual journey, though it is by no means a guarantee of safety.

  This is also why we don’t have to worry about predators in the Village. Those of us from the Bear, Wolf and Hunting Cat Clans are careful to mark our territory. Also, there’s strength in numbers, whereas a human alone is vulnerable.

  While I have the strength, I plan on moving around a little during the day. Those who have Quested before me tell me it helps to distract from the hunger pangs, and also helps generate body heat. Without the fuel of food to burn, my body temperature will fall, Spark warned me. I’ll want to move around as much as possible, if I can.

  At about the third moonrise, so they say, my body will begin to draw on its inner reserves and give me a second burst of energy that should carry me back home, during which I’ll walk toward The Eagle constellation and put The Salmon behind me.

  I’m not hungry yet. We don’t have set meal times among the People, because we never know for sure when our hunters and gatherers will bring in the next edibles. We smoke meat, of course, and store it along with dried berries, roasted corn, seeds, and nuts. But these are for the lean times, so we can’t just eat whenever we feel like it. We’ve had to learn to master our hunger, and many of us have gone days without food or water to ensure that the pregnant and nursing women, small children, and the sick get something to eat and drink. But I’ve never gone without sleep before, though my hunger has kept me awake longer than I would have liked at times.

  This will not be easy, I know. It will likely be the most difficult thing I ever do, in fact. I’ve heard all the stories, and I know some never return from their Quests. Sometimes their bodies are found, sometimes not. There’s a real chance I will never see my loved ones again. I’ll be alone and vulnerable for several days, weak from lack of sleep, food and water, locked in a battle to find myself and my future. Vision Quests are meant to test a young person’s endurance limits and self control, both physically and mentally. But at the end of this, I will know what I’m capable of, and no one will ever be able to take that from me.

  It feels so strange, yet powerful, to be walking away from everyone and everything I’ve ever known. Soon I will be further away from the Village than I’ve ever been before, except for the time Thunder Echo, Miklos, Artan and I arrived here after leaving Civitas Dei. I’m walking toward my destiny. The small hairs on my arms rise in anticipation.

    

  The sun is now at its highest point in the sky. I feel a little hungry, but my thirst is bothering me more. I heard a burbling stream in the distance earlier; it was difficult to ignore my instinct to go to it. I actually felt a little panicky, but I took a deep breath and kept walking away from the sound. Yet I feel full of energy, like I could keep walking like this for days. It’s a strange feeling
, knowing I’m the only human around for a good distance. It feels kind of lonely, if I let myself think about it.

    

  It’s late afternoon now, the light slowly fading. I’ve chosen a small clearing and gathered as much dry wood as I can for the fire, sheltering it from possible rain under a tree, knowing that in the days to come, my strength will quickly ebb. I watch the sun sink beyond the trees to the west, then kindle a fire using my flint. Settling down on a fallen branch I’ve dragged over to my fire pit to sit on, I listen to the sound of the wind in the trees and wait for the moon to rise.

  My stomach grumbles. I’m surprised at how freeing it is not to have to worry about food and water. I hadn’t realized how much time I spend every day thinking about them. This is part of the reason we fast during a Quest. It frees up our minds to think on spiritual things. I send up a prayer for strength and protection for the long night to come.

    

  The new moon rises, and my appetite rises with it. My stomach growls again. I wish I could give it some water to quiet it down. It’s so loud, it seems like it could be heard over a significant distance. Every once in a while, the burning wood pops and hisses, making me jump, but its warmth is welcome. I imagine flame creatures dancing in the fire’s depths.

  I’m trying not to think about my favorite foods or how cool and refreshing a drink of water would be right now. Instead, I try to distract myself by counting the stars above me. I’m tired, but the excitement I feel from being on my Quest and the growing discomfort in my belly keep me awake and alert. Also, I feel as if I’m being watched, but force the thought from my mind.