Esra

by Nicole Burr

  “Now I truly am worried. This is much worse than I thought,” Fynn turned to Baelin, who raised one questioning eyebrow at the archer. “If she listens te a bloke like ye, then she must have a serious head injury.”

  Baelin shook his head. “Keep talking, Plant man.”

  “Hey, ye don’t seem te mind me being the Plant man when yer injured, or in need of a delicious stew, fer that matter. Here Esra, drink this,” he brought her a small cup of something that smelled hauntingly like Lara’s Mitroot tea. “This will help ye te sleep a little bit longer. And don’t worry about the people who captured ye, we took care of the lot of ‘em.”

  “But there were dozens of them…” her voice trailed off as she grudgingly gulped down the warm, syrupy drink, surrendering to the fact that they were not going to tell her anymore. It was sweetened with Honey and traces of something else, perhaps Gingerroot. Lying down, she closed her eyes and listened to the soft crackle of the Fire until she drifted off.

  After he was sure she was asleep, Fynn slipped away and sat next to Baelin on the fallen Tree. “How much does she know?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid,” Baelin said quietly, running his hands through his thick, dark hair. “They found her before she was able te finish her studies with Cane. I think that he gave her a quick telling about the Keepers before she ran off into the woods, but that’s it.”

  Fynn raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So she doesn’t even know about ye, then?”

  “I’m not sure,” Baelin admitted, absentmindedly poking at the Fire with his staff. “But she’ll know everything soon enough.”

  XII

  True to his word, Baelin woke her for noonmeal. Getting a bowl of food in her stomach and some sleep seemed to have had great healing effects on Esra, but she was rather suspicious that Fynn was more than a capable apothecary. She remembered the words he had been whispering as he carried her to safety, and had a strong feeling that magick was involved.

  She had also had the most amazing dream about Sorley. She was in the woods with Meshok and they came upon a beautiful stream of Water where her grandparents waited at its bank. They drank cool Water from the stream, relaxing in the warm rays of the Sun as Meshok chased a Huckfly in the field. It had seemed so real, like she was really sitting in the damp Grass, drinking the sweet fresh Water.

  Esra stretched luxuriously as Fynn unwound her side from the minty leaf wrap. Bending over tentatively, the pain from her broken ribs was almost completely gone. She looked down to see that the dark purple bruises had faded to only a vague suggestion of a past hurt.

  “Jumping jig, Fynn. It doesn’t even ache. How did ye do that?”

  “Fynn, Keeper of Earth, at yer service.” He took a deep bow followed by a playful curtsy. “I am an accomplished apothecary, with the ability te create Herbal blends and heal most ills. My affinity lies with nature, so I can track any living thing and navigate all terrains. If it grows from the Earth or is a creature of it, then I can do something with it. My favorite ability, however, is that I can communicate with Animals.”

  He put two fingers up to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. Meshok came trotting out of the forest, tongue lolling.

  “Meshok!” Esra exclaimed with delight. She had not seen her friend since they had parted before town on Trader’s Day. “So yer a sorcerer then?”

  “That I am. And Meshok would like te apologize fer not being with ye in the forest,” Fynn said. “She followed ye but couldn’t show herself. Ye see, the Elites don’t know that the Great Wolves are still alive. It’s a widely kept secret that their race has been in hiding since Rїvan’s reign.”

  “Ye mean there’s more of them? Wait a minute…the Elites? That’s who captured me?”

  “Aye,” Fynn nodded. “They have some very bad manners if ye ask me. That’s not the correct way te get a lady alone, if ye know what I mean. Dark potions and breakin’ her ribs. Not that ye put up with any bit of their filth. ‘Who’d ye say was the girlie?’ Ha! That certainly put a briar in his britches. Anyway, I’m sure ye know about the trouble that has been brewing between the Keepers and the Elites? Yer a very important part of this battle.”

  “Me? But I’m not a Keeper. Cane said that he’s been hiding in Sorley to train me, but I’ve never had any special abilities or been able to do any sorcery.”

  “And we’ve been lucky fer that, we have. It has allowed ye te go unnoticed and unfound fer quite a long time. The Keepers have used this time te gain strength and numbers and te pursue vigorous training. But it has always been key that ye were allowed te grow under the instruction of Cane and the guise of appearing te be a normal Human.”

  Struck dumb like a slap in the face by his use of “normal” Human, Esra remained silent as she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Of course she was normal. Wasn’t she? Meshok plopped down next to her as Baelin threw a few more logs on the Fire, glancing over at her with concern. Along the horizon she could see two more figures entering the clearing, small packs hanging casually over their shoulders.

  “Nadia and Arland are here,” Baelin motioned to Fynn, who turned around to greet the newcomers. It was clear as they approached that the other two people were young Elves, as they had rather dark skin. Esra noticed they were all wearing the dark blue cloaks she had seen on the Keepers who came through Sorley. The Elves and Fynn stood for a few moments, deep in discussion as Baelin took a seat on the ground beside Meshok.

  “So yer a Keeper too?” She whispered softly. Baelin absentmindedly stroked the Great Wolf’s back as he stared out into space. She waited patiently for him to answer as she tenderly felt the area of her jaw covered by the poultice. Thinking he hadn’t heard her, Esra opened her mouth to repeat the question when he finally spoke.

  “Esra, I know that this is all very difficult and very confusing, but I want ye te know that everything is alright. What we are about te tell ye is already known by yer grandparents, so please don’t worry about them. They know what has te happen and that ye’re with us and safe.”

  She felt her face flush red with anger. “Aye, I suppose everybody knows what’s going on but me. I’m the one captured and almost killed and yet all I keep getting are secrets. Well I must say that I am sick of these secrets and I don’t care about these Keepers and Elites. I just want to go home and be with my family.”

  Esra expected her childish outburst to startle Baelin, but instead he seemed to sit for a moment in agreement. “I thought the same thing when they told me of all these things. I wondered how people could go so long hiding the truth and then expect me te be alright with everything in one quick moment. But everything was not alright, the world was full of all these new things I had no understanding of. Everything was backwards. Trust me, Esra, ye will grow te appreciate what we had te do, what ye are. Ye must have patience and know that all we want is te help ye and help yer family, because the time is soon coming when no family will be safe from the cruelty of Tallen and his Elites.”

  Esra sat in silence, still vaguely perturbed, but at least somewhat sedated knowing she hadn’t been the only one ambushed with all this information. As the other three returned to the Fire, her curiosity overcame her anger as she confirmed that the other two were indeed Elves, and beautiful ones at that.

  “Esra, meet Arland, Keeper of Charm,” Fynn introduced a startlingly attractive male Elf with wavy black hair that fell just below his ears. A small braid trailed down his left shoulder to the middle of a strong chest. Although he was rather dark skinned, his eyes were so light blue they were almost clear. He appeared to be younger than Esra, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, but she was unsure since she knew that Elves lived longer and she had never actually met one. Everything about him was appealing. He had an engaging smile that tilted to one side, a strong jaw, and hair that fell seductively into his eyes. The small markings on his forehead that indicated his tribe and heritage made beautiful, subtle swirls above his eyes that added to his air of exoticism. His body was also flawless, as he was tall and le
an, with strong arms and shoulders that highlighted a broad chest that sloped down to a slim waist. A greatsword hung by his side, a large, two-handed weapon that Esra was quite sure she couldn’t lift without slicing off one of her own fingers.

  “Pleased to meet ye,” Arland grasped her hand and kissed it playfully. Under any other circumstance, the forward gesture would have made Esra feel uneasy, but for some reason she could do nothing but smile stupidly back at him. It was a strange sensation, as if he were pulling her towards a carefree state where she would trust him as she would any other intimate friend. “I am forever sorry that ye had to be left alone with the madman, Fynnigan. We’ve tried to lose him quite a few times, but he always manages to track his way back to us.”

  Fynn laughed jovially at the jest. “Alright, we get it. Arland is the beautiful one and I got all the brains.”

  He turned to the young woman who was standing back from the Fire and motioned for her to step closer. “And this is Nadia, Arland’s twin sister.”

  “Hello,” Nadia nodded at Esra. The way she came forward to greet Esra reminded her of a cat, slinky and sly. It was hard to even keep your eyes on her. As if you were quite sure she was there, but then not really. As she came into focus, Esra took note that if Arland was an example of male perfection, here was his female counterpart. Unlike Esra’s wavy, dark blonde hair she usually tried to keep restrained in a knot, Nadia’s long black hair shimmered freely in cascading curls down her back, reflecting beautiful hues of darkness. She had large eyes, similarly light blue, and a strongly framed face that gave a seriousness to her expression. Her dark features were less seductive than her brother’s, but she was beautiful nonetheless.

  The one large difference between the two siblings was their size, as everything about Nadia suggested slightness. Her frame was tiny, but muscular. Esra stood open mouthed before the shimmering form before her, not sure why she couldn’t entirely see the Elf woman in solid form. Maybe her eye was not fully healed yet.

  “Nadia is the Keeper of Stealth, as ye can probably tell,” Arland explained. There was a twinge of an unknown accent in their voices, and Esra nodded in bewilderment as the dark skinned beauty smiled kindly at her.

  “I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful or unhappy,” Esra apologized. “I’ve just had a lot of things happen in the last few days. I’ve been studying with Cane fer a long time and I never once imagined that it may be fer a carefully planned purpose, nor that he would turn out to be one of the most revered sorcerers, a Great Keeper. And immortal at that. I feel like I should have seen something, some clues.”

  “Cane tried very hard not to leave any clues,” Nadia assured her. “Let’s sit down together and talk, answer yer questions.”

  “I would greatly appreciate that,” Esra admitted. They all took seats around the Fire and Fynn passed around bowls of noonmeal, which appeared to be a delicious mix of Rabbit, Onions, Corra Nuts, and some Herbs she couldn’t name.

  Where should I even start? Esra wondered. There were so many things swirling in her head, she had trouble even focusing on one.

  “Well,” she began slowly, “I guess I will start by asking why and how the Elites found me. And in turn, how did ye find me in the forest?”

  “We were not sure at first how the Elites found out ye lived in Sorley,” Fynn explained, “until we discovered a scout among our ranks. We used some spells te see what we could about their plan, but the only thing we could get before he died was that they knew ye were in Sorley. Cane assumed, and rightly so, that the Elites would want te make a move during the bustle of the next Trader’s Day. He called us all here, and the ‘rashes’ on yer arms started getting worse. It was a sign that ye would soon need te be taken te the Stronghold te begin yer training, so even if the Elites didn’t show up, we were planning on taking ye there after the festivities anyway. We found ye because I tracked the Elites in the forest. That was only after Baelin went all ‘save the Kingdom with my mighty staff’ and made them scatter, which made my job a little harder.”

  “Sorry,” Baelin mumbled. “At least I killed some of ‘em.”

  “So how did a scout know about me? And ye say that ye tortured and killed him?” Esra asked. She was slightly appalled that the Keepers would resort to such tactics, even with an enemy. Cane had made it seem as if they were a force of good, and held themselves to a high moral standard.

  “No,” Nadia assured her. “We just held him prisoner while we were questioning him. But we have ways of getting information without needing to torture someone. Unfortunately Tallen has no problem with disposing of one of his own to keep his secrets.”

  “But how could he kill him if he was with ye?”

  “Well, because Tallen leaves his mark on all the sorcerers he turns. All he had to do was say the word.”

  “That’s awful.” Meshok sighed heavily in agreement and began licking Esra’s shin. She had no idea that Tallen could be powerful enough to kill someone over a great distance. It was not encouraging information. No wonder most of the people of LeVara were wary of magick. “So how long have ye been Keepers? How many tests have ye passed?”

  Arland took to answering this question. “Well, we are all Fours, so we have passed all tests but one. Baelin has been a Keeper the longest, and Nadia and I have been Keepers since we were very young, perhaps about seven or eight. So we have been training fer almost a decade. Fynn is one of the more recent additions, coming in about five years ago. He was already in his twenties. A late bloomer, ye could say.”

  “I’ll show ye a late bloomer!” Fynn shook his fist playfully at his friend. “Mature, that’s what I was. Practicing advanced Herbal medicine when ye was just a bop in his skivvies.”

  “But isn’t passing four tests very difficult to do?” Esra asked. “Cane had told me it was extremely rare, and that usually a Three of Four was the leader of an Assembly of Keepers.”

  Arland smiled proudly, “Aye, it is very difficult, and equally as rare. Usually we would be split up among various Assemblies as leaders, but we were put together with a special purpose. We always knew, or hoped at least, that ye would be the last one to join us.”

  “But I don’t know any magick!”

  “Sure ye do, ye just haven’t tried it yet.”

  “How can ye be so sure?”

  “I’m not.”

  Esra stared at him incredulously. “So who is the Fifth of yer Assembly, the leader?”

  “Baelin.”

  “And what happens if ye don’t pass a test? Do ye ever get to try again?”

  “Aye, but ye must wait five years,” Arland explained. “Tests are not something that are handed out lightly. They are a great honor, a symbol of advancement. As fer that rash on yer arm, it does have a purpose. It’s not actually a rash, but the markings of a Keeper. It’s how we communicate, a language ye have already learned, called Tur. Look here.”

  He put his forearm palm up in front of her as she studied the rash. The markings began to move on his skin, and a faint glowing came from behind the black shapes. It was like they were insects, crawling around to arrange themselves into lines of glowing black script. Esra was astounded as she began to slowly read the newly formed text, pulling the language from her lessons with Cane.

  Arland, Keeper of Charm.

  “Bumbling Huckfly. Does it hurt?”

  He smiled cheerfully, “Good reading! No, it doesn’t hurt. I believe that it felt the worst when it was first appearing, burning and itching like mad. That’s why many people mistake it as a rash. Ye can’t get into the Stronghold without these markings, or Tur. A spell protects the fortress so that one who is not truly a Keeper can never find it.”

  “But ye said ye use these to communicate?”

  “Yes,” Arland continued. “That is the more complicated part. A Keeper can store information with their Tur like they could writing on a scroll. We often use Tur to collect maps, new spells, and other details about a task before we leave the Stronghold. But there is another reason that K
eepers always travel in groups of five. By putting together our Tur, we can perform much more powerful magick. We can communicate directly with the Great Keepers, but only when there are five of us. We actually used Tur to talk with Cane just before ye were captured on Trader’s Day.”

  Esra nodded. She had never looked at her teacher’s forearms before. Then again, she had never had the opportunity since he always wore long tunics, no matter what the weather. To think that he could have been receiving a magickal Tur message during one of their lessons was odd. “So ye put yer arms together and communicate? Sounds very strange.”

  “Ye don’t know the half of it,” Fynn joked. “Ye haven’t seen strange ‘til ye’ve been with all of us.”

  “So who was the fifth?” Esra asked. “Ye said ye need five, but there are only four of ye.”

  “Very perceptive,” Arland commended. “Ye listen well. The fifth Keeper was actually Lara. She came into the woods a few times to help us.”

  “Lara!” She exclaimed. A hint of betrayal brushed against the center of her chest at the thought of her friend’s secret. “I had no idea.”

  “Well, Lara doesn’t actively work with the Keepers on tasks anymore. She had chosen to move to Sorley with her husband to try and watch out fer ye.”

  “Mr. Sturik is a Keeper, too?”

  “No, but his brother is one, which is why Lara could marry him without much explanation or trouble. He already knew most of what happens. And Lara is the Keeper of Tranquility, so I daresay she reassured him through any of his fears.”

  Esra thought back to all the times she had felt a calmness settle upon her when entering the shop. The Mitroot tea that brought such serenity that she could never duplicate. How people trusted Lara with their deepest secrets and desires. It all made sense in a new way. Esra felt a lump grow in her throat as she was overcome by a feeling of great sadness. “So many people in my life are forced to keep secrets, to hide who they are. How awful to have to fight against one’s nature, deny yer true self. But part of me is proud that the people dear to me, people of Sorley, have such talents. These are remarkable skills. If only they would be able to share them openly again.”