Gambit of the Gods

by Ashley, Angela

  The girl says something, but I don’t catch it. The light fades, moving off through the trees. Thank you, Creator. That was too close.

  Finding the path again, the others soon emerge.

  “What would they be doing out here so late?” Kisto wonders, running a hand nervously through his thinning hair.

  “I’m glad we won’t find out,” Canu sighs, as we start down the path toward home once more. His usual gaity is dimmed.

  In two days’ time, we will no longer have to live in fear like this.

  Chapter 19: Artan

  Spark, Little Squirrel, and I walk in companionable silence, thinking about what we just witnessed. I have no doubt that those eerie animal skeletons, and the way they silently attacked us, will haunt my dreams for many nights to come.

  The sky has been filled with birds of various kinds all afternoon. Little Squirrel says they’re keeping watch over us, making sure our enemy and his creatures stay away. At one point, we saw several wolves watching us through the trees, but Little Squirrel assured us that they were only there to protect us.

  “They followed Whisker for some time, but turned back when they could no longer hear my mind-voice. They wanted to rip his throat out, but I asked them not to, so they didn’t.”

  Little Squirrel stumbles and almost goes down, but Spark catches her. He holds her just a little too long. My lips tighten, but I pretend not to notice their embrace.

  “You’re too weak, Little Squirrel,” he says firmly. She opens her mouth to argue, but he talks right over her. “And your skin is cold as ice. You need food and warmth. Artan, why don’t you build her a fire and get her to sit down, and I’ll go hunting. Give her more water. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “But I—” she stammers, but Spark is already Changing. Soon a huge wolf stands in his place. It licks Little Squirrel’s hand before ghosting into the bushes.

  Soon, we have a good fire going. Little Squirrel warms her frozen fingers in front of it, sighing. The look of pure pleasure on her face makes me smile. I offer her my water skin.

  “Thank you.” Taking several long pulls, a drop falls from her lovely, greedy lips and splashes near her feet. I concentrate on that spot; after a moment, a green bud shoots out of the ground where it fell, quickly sprouting into a full-grown violet plant. It forms a bud and the flower bursts open, revealing soft purple petals.

  She exclaims in surprise, glancing up at me when she realizes I must be practicing my ability. When she looks back down, several more violets have sprung up all around her. Violets are associated with love and bewitchment among the People, but I’m her brother, so I know she’ll think nothing of this offering.

  “Amazing,” she marvels, plucking a flower and admiring its scent. “ And it’s so like you, with your love of plants. My ability fits me well, too. You know how I’ve always loved animals. Now, I can communicate with them whenever I feel like it.” She shivers a little as the wind picks up briefly. “I’m feeling stronger now. Let’s go gather more wood to last us through the night.”

  When a trail of violets pop up on either side of her as she walks, she falters, looking back at me. “Artan? Aren’t you coming?”

  If I don’t do it now, I may lose my nerve. I go to her, taking her hands in mine. She looks up at me questioningly, waiting.

  “Little Squirrel,” I say with quiet determination, “I need to tell you something.”

  “What is it? Is Father all right?” she asks with concern.

  “Yes, of course. Here, come and sit down.” She does as I ask, turning to me expectantly.

  “When you left on your Quest,” I begin, “I was so worried about you. Miklos’ vision told us you would be in danger. I couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to you.” Taking a deep breath, I ask God to give me the right words. “Then I realized…I’ve been a fool.”

  A look of confusion flits across her face.

  “I’ve been a fool not to tell you how I feel about you,” I clarify. “Now, it may be too late.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, frowning. “Too late for what? I’m safe, and we’re together.”

  “You’re almost a woman grown. Now that you’ve found your Spirit Animal, the Elders will want you to choose a mate. Soon you’ll move out of our father’s hut and begin a family of your own.”

  “Of course, Artan,” she admits, “but you will always be part of my family.”

  “But what you don’t understand,” I explain, my eyes holding hers, willing her to feel the same way, “is that I am…in love with you. And I have been for a long time.”

  She blinks as my confession begins to sink in. “Oh,” is all she can think to say. Naira chooses this moment to scamper from the trees and climb her leg. Little Squirrel feeds her the berries we picked for her as we traveled, carefully not looking at me.

  “I know you may have feelings for another, and you want to be with someone who is Clan,” I continue doggedly. “But now that you’ll be starting a new Clan of your own, you’ll be free, I think, to take whichever mate you want.” She still won’t look up.

  “I’ve loved you ever since I first saw you,” I admit, laying my heart before her, “first as a brother, but later, as much more.” I let my voice soften, allowing it to convey the depth of my feelings, though I feel so vulnerable. She deserves to finally know the truth. “I believe the One True God brought us together for a reason. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

  At last, she meets my eyes. “I, I don’t…” she whispers, trailing off. My heart sinks.

  “Search your heart.” I implore. “See if there is any part of you that feels more for me than sisterly affection. If not, I promise I won’t trouble you with my feelings again. I’ll wish you every happiness with whomever you do choose for a mate…”

  Spark appears from behind a nearby tree in human form, carrying three dead rabbits over his shoulder. Little Squirrel swallows hard at the thought of tearing into their juicy, tender flesh. Her eyes dart back to me once, then away.

  Spark grins, noticing her raptly intent expression. He hands her the carcasses to skin. Humming quietly, he pulls out his knife and begins whittling pointed sticks for spitting the rabbits.

  Knowing my moment has passed, I turn my attention to the ground. Several cornstalks rise up beside the fire, yielding their cobs to me. I think I’ll always marvel at how fast it happens, since normally it takes corn three moon cycles to mature from seed. Soon, onion plants and Little Squirrel’s favorite, mushrooms, are maturing nearby.

  She plucks several mushrooms, shoving them into her mouth all at once. I give her my usual sideways smile, reminding me of the many times I’ve shared that same smile with her before. She gives me a tentative one back, but I feel my confession between us like an uncomfortable weight.

  Little Squirrel helps set the corn cobs and onions to roast over the fire next to the rabbits. We sit down to wait as darkness falls around us. Spark and I haven’t eaten since the night before, though we would never tell Little Squirrel that. We were too worried about her safety to do much hunting.

  Naira, having gobbled all the berries we picked, circles once in Little Squirrel’s lap and settles down contentedly. Little Squirrel croons to her softly, stroking her soft fur. Naira stares up at her adoringly, her muzzle against Little Squirrel’s fingers. Little Squirrel’s eyes close and her head droops, her exhaustion overtaking her. But before long, she wakes and sits up, shaking her head as if to clear it. Setting Naira down on her rock, she stands and begins to pace.

  Turning to Spark, she says, “I’ve been thinking. You heard Whisker say what his Vision told him, that me and my friends would have the power to stop him. Maybe that means you have a special ability too. When I had my own Vision, I was told much the same thing. Have you felt anything different lately?”

  Spark scratches his ear in thought. “I don’t think so. Artan, how did you know you could do what you did?”

  “Well, I was searching for mushrooms
yesterday when you left me to hunt, and I noticed mushrooms everywhere I thought they would be, if that makes sense. Then, one began to grow out of the ground as I watched, and then another, and another. I thought I was going crazy.

  “So I thought of corn, and some stalks began growing. I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I tried the same thing with onions, and beans…and flowers,” I explain, glancing over at the violets meaningfully. Spark doesn’t notice, but Little Squirrel does, though she pretends not to.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it last night?” Spark asks.

  “I didn’t think you would believe me,” I admit, “and I didn’t want anyone but Little Squirrel and Father to know, since I couldn’t be sure what the People would think of it.”

  Little Squirrel perks up. She’d been drowsing on her feet. “When did you think to use your ability as a weapon?”

  “When those dead animals began circling us, I somehow just…knew what to do. I reached out and pulled the power through my staff, and the vines did my bidding. I had those seeds in my pocket because I like to plant trees and watch them grow, but I never expected to see trees grow so fast. I don’t know…something just told me what to do, and I did it.”

  “That’s kind of what I did, as well,” Little Squirrel tells us. “I reached out in desperation, almost like a prayer, and suddenly the animals appeared. I could feel their emotions inside my head.” She hesitates, then lets the words out in a jumble, “I can feel your emotions now too. Sometimes.”

  Spark’s eyes narrow in unison with my own, which would normally be humorous, considering how different we are, if only Little Squirrel hadn’t just admitted she can almost read our minds. And if we both weren’t in love with her...

  “So Father was right about your birthright from the Queensrealm after all,” I muse, after a long, awkward moment. Telling her how I feel is one thing. But how can I go on, knowing that every time I see her with her future mate, she’ll be able to sense how heartbroken I am? I can control my expressions, but I’ll never be able to hide my pain from her. How humiliating for me, and uncomfortable for her that will be.

  She glares at us.

  “Stop looking at me as if I just fell from the sky for the purpose of sucking your brains out through your ears, you two,” she scolds.

  Spark and I look at each other uncertainly. Then the corner of my mouth slowly turns up. Spark guffaws and, to my surprise, slaps me on the back as if we’re friends.

  “You did look like that, Artan,” he chortles.

  I burst out laughing, wheezing out between breaths, “So…did…you!”

  Little Squirrel joins in our laughter. The forest rings with our merriment.

  One of the rabbits squirts hot juice onto my cheek. I put my hand up to taste it.

  “Mmmmm, I think it’s time to eat,” I exult. We each grab a skewer of rabbit and begin to devour the tender flesh, making appreciative noises. Our mouths are too full to say anything coherent for a while.

  “So, Spark,” I prompt later. “Why don’t you try it? Right now?”

  Little Squirrel nods in agreement, but Spark furrows his brow. He looks fearful, of all things. He’s such a brave warrior. Why should this frighten him?

  “Just open your heart,” Little Squirrel says soothingly, “and reach out to the Spirit Over All. Don’t try to picture what you might be able to do—just clear your mind and will it to happen.”

  “There’s nothing to fear,” I add in an attempt to help, but Spark stiffens with anger. Fear is not a word warriors acknowledge. His pride stung, he closes his eyes and bows his head in prayer as Little Squirrel suggested.

  Nothing happens. Little Squirrel and I sit silently, waiting.

  The fire flares in front of us as if alive, hungry tongues of flame leaping skyward. We jump, taken by surprise. It begins to rise higher, then higher still, until it’s over our heads and still climbing higher, a shining tower of heat and light. Abruptly, it goes out, leaving a bright after-image in front of our eyes.

  Spark opens his eyes and gestures. The fire re-ignites, once again burning normally. Holding out his hand, palm up, he concentrates again…and a small flame appears there as if at the top of an unseen candle, dancing merrily without burning his skin. He stares at it a moment in wonder, then it too winks out.

  “Spark,” he says solemnly, and the flame appears on his palm once more. We grin at the perfection of his gift. It fits him as well as his own name does.

  Little Squirrel yawns hugely and blinks several times, her eyelids drooping. Spark’s spark goes out.

  “No more excitement for you today, Little Squirrel,” he chides her as she moves to get up and gather more wood for the fire. “Go to sleep now. Artan and I will take turns keeping watch tonight.”

  “I need to tell you more about my Vision,” she protests, but another yawn cracks her jaws wide, and she gives in. Lying down with her back to the fire, she begins to snore as soon as she closes her eyes.

  Spark’s eyes meet mine across the fire with a question in them, and I nod. Without a word, he lies down. Soon, his snores echo hers.

  Sighing, I settle down to stand first watch, my gaze hovering over Little Squirrel protectively. I notice her falcon in a nearby tree, hooded eyes keeping silent watch as well, and nod at her. She stares back.

  Chapter 20: Sera

  I materialize in Kella’s rooms, breathing a sigh of relief when I sense she’s deeply asleep. With only two moons left until the slave uprising, I have to try to reach her. Now that she and Jaereth have parted ways, I can’t be sure he will protect her. With luck, I can get her to protect herself.

  Stepping into her, I traverse the outermost layers of her mind. We can only detect their emotions, basic sensations and surface thoughts—the part of their mind that shouts the loudest, if you will—during the day.

  But while they sleep, and at other rare times when their mental shields slip like when they’re praying or making love, we can go deeper. Their innermost thoughts remain protected, but we can see into their dreams. This time I hope to go beyond even that, to speak to Kella mind to mind. After all these years of touching her forebears’ minds and now hers, I’ve felt the barrier between us weakening. It’s time to see how far.

  She’s amused, I sense. There’s an undercurrent of shock, nervousness, and admiration, as well. Swimming deeper, the scene in her mind begins to solidify around me. It’s a perfect, cloudless summer day…

  Kella and Karyl are gazing over the rail of House Jemleyn’s tall back deck. The deck, laid out in the shape of a treble clef in acknowledgement of House Jemleyn’s love of music, has stairs circling down to the ground in the tail of the treble clef some distance to their right. Below their perch, Ladies from every House mingle, arrayed in all their finery. What could be so amusing?

  Peering over the railing, I see nothing amiss. Directly below them stands Karyl’s sister Klenna, talking with several girls her age. Then Karyl drops a tiny purpleberry into her sister’s lovely feathered hat. Klenna and her friends chatter on, unaware.

  Ah, that’s their game. So…how can I reach Kella when she’s this focused? Every attempt we’ve made before has failed…

  Perhaps instead of interrupting the dream to talk to her, I should become part of it, at least at first. I imagine myself as a young girl Kella’s age, wearing a pale orange dress I saw the other day on one of the Jemleyn girls. Coming up behind the two, I sidle up to the rail beside them, giggling when I look over it as if admiring their handiwork.

  “Nicely done!” Klenna moves to intercept another friend, unaware of the berry she’s now conveying on her head. You know me, I think to Kella, looking into her eyes with a friendly smile.

  “Have we met? You look familiar,” she says, giving me a polite smile in return.

  “Yes. My name is Sera,” I reply, thinking fast. “Do you know that feeling you get when you’re alone but you sense someone else’s emotions? That’s me.”

  She frowns, thinking I’m ma
king a joke at her expense, so I hurry to explain, “I know it sounds strange, but I promise it’s true. Not everything that exists can be seen. I’m trying to reach you in your dreams to warn you that you’re in danger.” Too late, I realize that my words are very similar to Jaereth’s. I don’t want her to think I’m just an echo from her memories or she won’t take the warning seriously.

  “What kind of danger?” Kella doesn’t bother to hide her skepticism. Karyl disappears behind her, forgotten. I don’t have much time before she begins to wake, so I need to make an impression quickly. The problem is, I promised Wilde I wouldn’t betray the slaves’ plans. I decide to be honest.

  “I need you to believe that I exist, or when you wake up you’ll dismiss me as a figment of your imagination. So I need to tell you something you can’t possibly know. Kliara is pregnant with her first child. I heard her tell your Elder Mother last night when they thought no one else could hear.”

  She stares at me now in open disbelief. Before she can turn away, I add, “Verify it when you wake. But for now, hear me. Pack a bag, because as Jaereth warned you, you’re in danger. I can’t tell you who you’re in danger from because of a promise I made to someone I love, but I gave you your ability to call the winds. You can use it to defend yourself until Jaereth can get to you.”

  Kella just shakes her head. “No, that was a gift from the Goddess. What a strange dream this is,” she muses, and abruptly disappears. Just like that, her dream dissolves, her mind pushing me back and back, outside of its natural barriers.

  She sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Looking around the room as if expecting to see the girl from her dream and instead finding herself alone, she gives a small, self-amused sigh.

  “Sera,” she whispers, sampling my name on her tongue. Then she shakes her head. Addressing the room at large, she scolds, “How ridiculous. There isn’t even an “L” in the name. And Kliara has been unable to conceive since her first mating three summers ago.”