Tetra smiled softly to himself. It seemed so much clearer now that he understood there was no one to help him. He looked up to his uncle and spoke softly. “How many lives would the king sacrifice if the crown prince had been taken?”
His uncle stayed silent, but the look in his eyes told Tetra what he suspected. The king would declare war on the Aspects themselves if they took his son. Tetra nodded once and yanked free from his uncle’s grip. Without another word he turned, striding away, no particular destination set in his troubled mind.
“We leave at the end of the week,” his uncle called after him. “You’ll be coming to live with me in the Capitol from now on.”
“Of course, Uncle. As you command.” He spoke evenly. “I’ll begin packing tonight.” The Rocmire awaited him.
***
Chapter Ten
Halli Bicks
The orocs rose before the sun, crafting with their magic, adding to the structures of their village. It was a daily process that made the village feel as alive as the rest of the forest. Halli marveled at the intertwined nature of the orocs and the tools they used. Everything stayed alive; nothing was used up.
As the morning shaping began, elder saplings would round up and tend the younger ones while readying breakfast. Halli moved amongst them, mostly ignored, occasionally bumped aside. Her initial worries had begun to ease. Everything seemed so placid and peaceful. It almost became difficult to think of these people as the same that made appearances nightly in her nightmares, attacking Jaegen. At the same time, she shuddered at the thought of humans perpetrating such terrible violence on the Foxleaf and Willowhawk clans. She moved back to the cell where the girls were sleeping and sat by the entrance for a moment, thinking about the orocs as she watched.
Balance seemed so ridiculous to her. It was so forced. Taking lives in exchange for lives taken didn’t fix anything. What was it the elders had always said? Vengeance begets vengeance, and blood calls for more blood. It was a cycle that would never end.
But balance was such a deeply rooted oroc philosophy. How many of the harvesters would come back from the attack on Drayston? She didn’t believe the orocs would, or could, win that fight. How many lives would then be owed? This seemed like the death of an entire region that she was witnessing, the fall of the Rocmire tribes.
The Tribes believed they could find balance, but they were wrong. Humans were far more vicious. She had seen her dad and uncle fight, and what they did was more brutal than anything she had seen the orocs do, even at Jaegen. The last thing weighing on her mind was the connection with Tetra. Where else could he be but at Drayston? She reached out along that connection, just as she had every other day, but to the same end. Her Affinity wasn’t able to actually sense a response. She rubbed her arm brusquely, then glanced into the cage as a sound drew her notice.
She knew she was spending more and more time in her own head these days, and she shouldn’t. She needed to engage. As the girls woke around her, Halli filled a cup from the water bucket and crossed the cell floor, smiling and touching each girls shoulder or back as she walked to sit by Katerine.
Kat’s breathing was harsh … ragged. Every so often, she paused long enough for Halli’s heart to skip a beat before sucking in air again. As Halli wet the girl’s lips, she sent up a prayer for Pavil and Malec, a daily routine she’d added to Kat’s feedings, asking the Aspects to keep the boys safe and maybe, just maybe, bless their efforts to bring help. The two were capable enough, even if Pavil was still a bit young and easy to distract with … well … anything, really. She cleaned Kat’s face, and pushed on her spirit to reconnect with the body’s cells while she thought about the boys.
An oroc sapling dashed past the cave entrance, shouting, disturbing the slow and quiet waking of the human children. Murmurs surrounded Halli and she narrowed her eyes. It didn’t take a Pathos to sense that something was wrong and panic was floating through the air. “Stay calm girls.” Halli kept her voice steady.
A moment later, the oroc that had just sprinted by them ran back the other way, followed by a group of other saplings. A clamor arose in the distance.
Halli stood, the rough earth of the water cup slipping from her fingers and falling to the ground next to Kat. If she was sane, she would tend to Kat. “Stay here. There is an emergency, and I don’t want any of you getting hurt, too.” Command rang from her voice, and the Jaegen children, though frightened, grouped together at the back of the cave. Halli took a tentative step towards the mouth of the cave, pausing to glance back. Were she sane, she would be staying with them, hiding in the shadows under the guise of protecting them. Hiding from change. She stepped forward into the light.
Morning sun, too bright for the dark emotions rolling across the camp, blinded her momentarily as she emerged from the cave. She blinked. The camp numbers had swelled—though not to overflowing, as it had been before the war party left. This was … different. As orocs flooded in from the surrounding woods, they carried the wounded and dead. Areas that were normally centers of motion were filled with the eerily, quietly grim returning parties. Saplings and ancients aided returned warrior-hunters, many of them sporting terrible wounds. Halli’s eyes narrowed as she studied the details, and tears started to form. She steadied her breathing, forcing herself to watch, to ignore the fears gripping at her chest and squeezing the breath out of her. Five clans were present in the markings of the returning orocs. She gaped at the injured orocs. Surely that couldn’t be right. There were far too few orocs to represent five clans … or this was the damage done … how many had actually survived at Drayston?
The horror of what she was seeing slowly registered. Even the orocs carrying their fallen brethren were injured. The lightly wounded were pushing Tecton crafted stone slab carts for those that could not move themselves. The earth itself was rising up to meet the makeshift trundles, propelling them forward.
Amongst those on the carts, whole limbs had gone missing, chunks had been torn out of torsos, and hands and feet ended in stumps. Spirit magic welled throughout the settlement, pressing against Halli’s affinity as the Bearoak clan tried heal and save who they could.
Even as she took this all in, one of the harvesters bucked, struggling against the flood of magic. The oroc straining against invisible chains suddenly relaxed, going limp. Its head lolled to the side as its chest stopped moving. Halli gasped and held trembling hands to her mouth. Wails went up, shaking the trees all around, as more died by the moment. Halli sensed their spirits drifting away, moving on to whatever afterlife awaited their kind. It was like whatever drive had sustained them to make it home had fled. But they had left to attack the castle almost two weeks ago. How had these injured harvesters made it back?
Halli stared, overwhelmed by the death around her. The orocs’ thrumming voices turned into a cacophony as every open space became a makeshift infirmary. The more skilled Geists darted about, laying hands on gushing wounds, trying to keep spirits anchored to the physical world.
Then a choked whisper caught her ear.
“Kunat … Ku—Kunat …”
She turned towards the source of the voice. Gnarrl lay next to a dead oroc, his body mangled, his face almost unrecognizable. A young harvester, Gnarrl’s daughter, pressed her hands over a wound in his side, eyes closed in concentration. Gnarrl twitched and thrashed, calling his friend’s name in the midst of a fever dream, Halli suspected.
Instinct took over, and Halli reached out with her affinity. In the past, using it too close to any oroc had resulted in a growl her way, if not a savage kick. Now, though, the omnipresent healing masked the use of her magic. Either that, or none of them cared, focused as they were on healing their injured. She sensed that Gnarrl’s daughter didn’t have a strong Geist affinity. Though her earthen affinity likely made up for that, Tecton magic wouldn’t help the oroc now.
Not daring to get close enough to be noticed, Halli stretched a hand out towards Gnarrl. Normally she had to touch a person for her healing to be effectiv
e. She shut her eyes and imagined a connection between them, like the one she shared with Tetra. Her spirit soared, defining the mental bridge in her mind’s eye. Her magic flooded out, into Gnarrl, giving her a better idea of his state. The rapidity of his natural regeneration surprised her, but he had so many wounds, he’d die of blood loss without drastic and immediate, help. So she gave it to him, pouring healing through his spirit and into his flesh.
Bit by bit she coaxed out his spirit, showing it how to bond with his cells, how to amplify the body’s ability to heal. When he stopped calling for Kunat, she opened her eyes. His bleeding had stopped and the worst injuries no longer looked life-threatening, his shallower wounds had closed over altogether.
“Father?” Gnarrl’s daughter sat back in surprise.
“Furrl.” He sighed.
She must’ve sensed Halli’s affinity at work, for she turned and stared right at her. She’d never seen surprise on an oroc’s face, though Furrl’s expression shifted to one of hope, and translucent green tears flowed from her eyes. “Human sapling, please help us?”
She bit her lip then nodded. “Yes. Of course.” Halli spread her arms and her affinity along with them. There were many gifted Geists amongst the orocs, but just as in Jaegen, Halli was an order of magnitude stronger, even if she didn’t know how to fully use her strength. Can I do this? She wondered. I am destined to be an Archmage someday, according to Granddad. I WILL do this. Gritting her teeth together, Halli threw everything she had into her magic. A map formed in her head. Every injury. Every spirit. How close they were to leaving this plane.
Targeting the nearest, most seriously injured, she pulled in the net her magic was casting, holding the map in her head but focusing on healing specific injuries. Her own strength was formidable, but it wouldn’t be enough. Sensing the spirits of the trees and wildlife around her, she tapped into them, borrowing energy. As she healed, she walked through the camp, occasionally bending over to touch rough skin and enhance the process. She passed by those already dead or stabilized, channeling her magic to those who needed it most. Human or oroc didn’t matter anymore. There were no thoughts in her head about captivity, nothing of what might have happened to those at the castle. All she could see were spirits in pain.
As she bent over an oroc with a deep gouge through his chest, she watched as the magic soared through her, into the wound. His chest closed, the wound healing in front of her. His eyes snapped open and he roared in fury. The harvester reached for her, murder in his eyes, she felt his hand wrap around her waist, crushing the air out of her. The connection to the vast well of spirit around her crumbled as she gasped.
“No!” Furrl swung a fist connecting with the harvester’s jaw.
Halli felt the pressure lessen and gulped in air, coughing. She pushed weakly at the massive hand grabbing her but couldn’t break free.
Furrl grabbed the other oroc’s hand, wrenching at his fingers, helping the struggling Halli. “She is a Geist Walker. She heals and helps all.”
The oroc reluctantly released her as Furrl landed a second blow across his jaw. “She is a human. They upset the balance and killed the clans!” The oroc rolled over, pushing up to his knees and staring Halli in the eye. Halli watched warily as his fingers dug into the ground. The earth seemed to melt beneath his hand. “Geist Walker or not, she is a human. There is no balance while a human lives in the Rocmire!”
Furrl took a step forward, interposing herself between the angry attacker and the still gasping Halli. “Do you wish to disregard the rules of the life trees? Their wisdom means nothing? A Geist Walker is holy. Race matters not to her, why does it matter to you?”
Halli looked around. The camp was quiet now as others listened. Work still continued, orocs healing and trying to help each other, but this moment was being carefully observed by all.
The other oroc looked down in shame. His fingers uncurled, releasing the death grip he had on the ground. He looked up, meeting Furrl’s eye. “Balance outweighs lore. Even the ancients say that the ideas of the past can unbalance the future.” Two earthen spikes floated up from the ground, connecting with his fists. The rock flowed along his vine clothing until it coated his forearms. Halli heard gasping.
“You are wrong to challenge.” Furrl spoke quietly, almost sadly. “You fight for the right to kill, in the name of balance, the one that saved you as you died. This is not balance, not redress, it is just … wrong. It is human. Do you kill your saplings, too, when they fail to meet your expectations? Come with your rite of stone. I shall choose the rite of spirit.” There was more gasping, confusing Halli. She had never seen this before and didn’t understand what was going on. Furrl sat in front of the other oroc and gently placed her hands in her lap. Raising her head, she exposed her chin and locked eyes with the challenger.
Halli focused and suddenly understood what was happening. Furrl was using her weak Geist affinity in a clever way—a way no human had, or even could, use an affinity. The attacker raised his fist but it froze in midair. Furrl must have locked it in place using her Tecton magic, but she was also using her Geist, gently tugging at the spirit as it anchored to itself to the earth. If Halli understood this properly …
Furrl broke into a sweat. Her opponent was not just standing there. He was viciously counterattacking, but his method seemed to be more brute force oriented. His magics were focused on hammering Furrl’s spirit. This Halli had seen. If he succeeded, Furrl would be overtaxed and collapse from exhaustion. Landing a stone-enhanced blow would most likely finish her. Both participants were playing for keeps. Why? She wondered.
She realized then why Furrl had chosen Geist. Since she was attacking the other oroc’s Tecton affinity, she had chosen to attack the thing she knew the most about. Bonds of magic were severed, viciously sundered as spirit and affinity were ripped apart. The stone fists crumbled and the attacker fell to his knees. Halli focused. She couldn’t let this happen. Grabbing the last thread of spirit as it fled, she held on, coaxing it back.
Furrl stood. “You have failed challenger. Balance is redressed.” She sighed. “The cost is tantamount to the balance you have forced on our tribe. Fool.”
Halli grunted. “No. No one should have their Affinity ripped from them. How is this even possible? This is … wrong. I don’t care that he wanted to kill me.” She grunted and made a jerking motion. “I’m sorry Furrl. You won, but just … no. I’m sorry for undoing your custom, or whatever.”
The challenger stood, blinking. His eyes narrowed and he grunted. The earth before him rippled. Looking past Furrl, he met Halli’s eye. “I am sorry, Geist Walker. My life is not in balance. I should not have acted as I did. I am yours, to do with as you will.”
Halli realized they were standing in a growing circle of silence. Furrl looked back to her, eyebrows raised. Healers were still desperately working to save lives, but she could feel every ear waiting to hear her response. Fearing that she would get it wrong froze her momentarily. She knew that saying “just leave me alone and let us go” wouldn’t work. Whatever was said, it needed to match up with whatever this strange oroc custom was, at least in attitude, if not in exact wording. She coughed again, desperately grabbing everything she had learned of the orocs, then plunged forward with her reply.
“Balance has to be seen from both sides. What you see as imbalance may not be so. I understand that you have emotional and spiritual hurt, not just physical, and those are not so easily healed. But if you wish to find balance, help me heal, please.”
Halli’s would be attacker nodded solemnly, though he still looked angry. “As you say, Geist Walker.” The chatter and noises resumed. Halli assumed she had passed whatever the test had been and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Furrl, heal those only too wounded to heal others. Then they may begin to help the rest. Enough of this chatter.” She looked over her shoulder. Gnarrl stood on unsteady legs, grim determination masking his face. She shrugged and knelt down, healing another oroc.
As Furrl l
eft to do his bidding, Gnarrl squatted beside her and placed his hands on the oroc next to the harvester she’d just healed. Gnarrl grunted, frustration twisting his face. Halli laid a hand on Gnarrl’s shoulder, sensing, probing as he healed the oroc. She twined her spirit around his, assisting in the healing as best she could. He wielded nearly as strong a Geist affinity as she possessed. Strange.
The harvester opened her eyes and sat up. She looked quizzically at Halli, and then at Gnarrl.
“Geist Walker,” Gnarrl said. The female’s eyes widened Halli’s way, and her discomfort increased. What were the orocs talking about? What was a Geist Walker?
Gnarrl rustled the leaves forming the huntress’ headdress with his hand. The camp moved around her and Gnarrl as they healed. After the exchange between Furrl and the other oroc, she understood Gnarrl sticking close to her, but she still felt like she was walking on eggshells. Gathering her courage, she stopped, looking at Gnarrl. He was the closest thing she had to a friend amongst the orocs. Perhaps he was only an ally, or maybe he only pitied her, but she had to know. She spoke in Promencian, not wanting to be understood by the camp at large. “Gnarrl. What is a Geist Walker?”
He sucked in a breath, leaning back. The just healed patient before him stood, still dazed, and wandered away toward the water cistern. Furrl and her close companion, Fursta, carefully carried another wounded oroc toward them. Once again, Halli wondered how so many of them had made it back so injured.
Gnarrl glanced up, replying in Promencian also. “A Geist Walker is one whose magic does not have to be connected to the body. I must touch. Healing must have contact. All healing. This is not so for a Geist Walker.”
Halli’s brows knitted in confusion. “But isn’t that just a matter of learning and skill, not strength?”
“It is neither skill nor strength, sapling. It is a matter of something else.” He shrugged, a particularly human gesture which Halli had not seen come from an oroc before. “Geist Walkers are held in reverence by oroc clans. They are a gift from Azaria.”
Bloodletting Part 2 Page 6
