by Jen Valena
Ithia heartily bit into a red apple. “Funny, I don’t like apples, but this tastes really good.”
Tyrsten was quiet for a moment and then said, “Apples are one of my favorite fruits.”
“Hmm.” She wondered if maybe star-filled eyes weren’t the only thing Tyrsten had given her. “Do we have to travel as far today?”
“No, and not as strenuously. We made good time yesterday.”
They rode until the afternoon. Vermillion clouds cut into a periwinkle sky when Tyrsten came to a stop at the beginning of a grassy dell. “We can walk the rest of the way.”
Ithia exhaled in relief. “My hindquarters thank you.”
“I need to offer words of caution.”
“Why? What is Charlan like?”
“I expect you will find our settlements to be more akin to your world before your machines.”
“Interesting.”
Tyrsten heard her curiosity and warned, “Avoid the chance for anyone to see your eyes. Act familiar with this place. We do not want to draw scrutiny. Fortunately, Tancreed lives on the town’s edge, a less populated route.”
“If someone does notice, what will they do?”
“It depends on whether they are friend or foe.”
“How will I know the difference?”
“Follow my lead.”
His self-controlled demeanor fell fully back into place. Ithia wasn’t complaining, this behavior might be the key to her survival in this world.
5 ✹ Augur’s Omen
A dream from which I cannot wake.
— Ithia Sydran
Upon reaching the borders of Charlan, Tyrsten wondered to himself if his companions had reached the town safely. He was unable to sense them amongst the three thousand bustling inhabitants.
Tyrsten hastened as he led Ithia along the outskirts, close to the tree line and through the high, flaxen turf, somehow not leaving a trail.
The strange sensation that someone followed them continued to nag Ithia. This time, when she glanced over her shoulder, she spotted a shadowy figure moving swiftly and low to the ground between the trees.
“Something’s behind us. It moved more like the shadow of a man than an actual man.”
“There are many animals in the forest,” Tyrsten dismissed. “Inform me if you see it again.”
Ithia could now see people roaming about the town. Most residents dressed in fashions similar to what she and Tyrsten wore, but in a wide array of colors—some bright, some muted. People engaged in lively barter and socializing. A handful of soldiers monitored the goings on.
As if he read her mind, Tyrsten said, “Avoid those men wearing the gray and black. They are Garrick’s soldiers. It would be very dangerous for us to be identified by them.” Tyrsten adjusted her hood to shadow her face. He was thankful the wind was brisk enough to warrant their cloaks.
When Tyrsten entered the town, he exchanged his furtive stride to one of ease. Ithia followed closely in kind.
Hundreds of dwellings encompassed the town center—a large, circular community park—lined by public buildings. A temple, library, a modest but large meeting hall, and an astronomer’s observatory tower were the most prominent. Herbalists, bakers, bookshops and other vendors radiated from the center. The buildings ranged from adobe, stone masonry to simple rough-hewn log structures. Ithia enjoyed the organic shapes, the rounded walls with the smooth lines of plaster, the rich colors of terra cotta. Bold blues and deep greens coated the exterior walls. The multicolored town was alive in a way she had never seen before.
Plots of community gardens checkered the settlement. An efficient grid of aqueducts supplied the land and buildings with fresh water.
Ithia’s route didn’t allow her to see much of the town’s heart, but she noted the rooftops and peaks.
“What’s that largest building?”
“That is what passes for the courts these days, a theater for puppet political leaders. It was a Temple.”
Resentment colored the word Temple, but she was unable to inquire why since the subject propelled him faster.
The telltale signs of humans wafted over her—smells of spices and sweat. Children’s playful yelps rang through the streets.
Ithia kept her head lowered but casually peeped down the thoroughfare at the exotic fruits, beautifully woven fabrics, elaborately painted hand-carved toys, intricate metal instruments and delicious-smelling baked goods.
They came upon a seemingly abandoned bungalow that may have once been a storefront. A shingle with eroded script dangled from only one of the two rusted metal brackets.
Tyrsten knocked on the door and waited for a reply. None came. He rapped again, faster and more urgently. No answer.
“Maybe he’s out.”
Tyrsten scanned for signs of unwanted eyes upon him. “No. Sauvant Tancreed would have foreseen our arrival.” He tried the door handle. The door swung open freely. “This is not a good omen.” Tyrsten let himself in.
There had been a struggle. The room was in shambles.
Tyrsten righted an upended table as if that could make right the situation. “He was likely taken to be questioned and tortured.”
“Because of me?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. He is of my kind. We are a target.”
The idea she might have caused someone to be tortured struck her hard. It triggered her need to know why that would be. Ithia jabbed a finger at Tyrsten. “I’m not leaving this house until you give me answers.”
Her sudden fury rattled Tyrsten. “I believed Tancreed would give you those answers. Now he cannot.”
“So did we cause this by coming here?”
Tyrsten frowned. “It could be.” Tyrsten studied her before adding, “Because you are in great demand, that much you can deduce. Because, I believe that you are originally from this world.”
“Impossible!” Ithia threw her arms in the air. “And so what if I was? Why would anyone care?”
“Keep your voice down.” He pressed his palms downward.
Ithia paced back and forth.
Tyrsten took her compassionately by the arm. “Your eyes.” He stared deep into hers and almost fell into them again.
She flinched from the same sensation.
“They would not have changed, if you were not of this world.”
Ithia slumped into a seat. “If that’s true—there’s nothing I can rely on anymore.”
He cupped her shoulder and offered a reassuring smile. “You cannot know this yet, but you can rely on me.”
She followed his voice to search for an answer in his face. She had a strong urge to trust him, but refused to do so—not completely. “I don’t even know anything right now—where—who—what—I am.”
“You are who you have always been.”
“You sound sure of yourself. How would you know?” Ithia crossed her arms in defiance. “Oh, yeah—your superpowers.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ve gone mad!”
Tyrsten took a deep breath, pondering the wisdom in telling her. “You must have been hidden on Earth your whole life.”
A puzzled wrinkle formed on her forehead questioning why she would need to be hidden. Yet, what he said about not belonging on Earth resonated. Her steps were always out of rhythm, her thoughts out of sync, with everything around her. She always assumed that others felt this too. “Something’s wrong with me,” she murmured.
Tyrsten pulled his mouth tight and cursed himself.
Ithia whispered, “Why me? I’m nobody. It’s a dream—or a coma, and I’m rationalizing my feelings of isolation with this whole made-up world.” As she said this, she was relieved. “It makes sense now. I’ve made up this fantasy.” She let out a little giggle.
Tyrsten stared at her with concern.
“Perhaps,” she added, “I really am dead.”
Tyrsten was angry at himself for telling her what he had. Now he paced the room. Of course, there was no other way around it. She wouldn’t have budged without some explanation. “If that i
s what you choose to believe, would it not make sense to see it through? It is your reality, dream or not.”
She gazed out of a dirty window pane at this new world.
Tyrsten abruptly lunged forward and cupped his hand over Ithia’s mouth. Before she could resist, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a nearby closet. He placed a finger over his mouth and closed the closet door. Their bodies pressed against each other. She was about to protest but stopped.
Footsteps approached.
Although her claustrophobia was triggered, she managed her fear.
A man entered the house. After a moment, he whispered, “It is me—alone.”
Tyrsten stepped out of their hiding spot, and Ithia gasped for the open air.
“You arrived without incident?” Tyrsten asked.
His friend smiled in reply. He wore a similar outfit to Tyrsten’s: dark green cloth and brown leather.
A citrine yellow aura radiated off of him, but Ithia assumed this was her imagination. His tawny-brown eyes twinkled, and she sensed this man used humor to relate to others. His tousled hair reminded Ithia of a happy-go-lucky surfer waiting for the next big wave.
“I just rode in.” His voice was sunny, too—bright and warm.
She had an inexplicable instant affection for this man as if he were a long lost friend. But she hadn’t even been introduced yet.
“Ithia, this is Huldo.”
Huldo took her hand and bowed. “It is an honor. Call me Hu, if it pleases.” His eyes transfixed on hers. His voice filled with excitement, “Amazing!” He raised his eyebrows at Tyrsten.
There was an understanding within their glance that Ithia couldn’t interpret.
In keeping with his perky attitude, Huldo beamed at Ithia.
Huldo had a joy to him that Ithia envied right now. She wanted to be as relaxed as he appeared. She wanted to be home, during those rare times when Gramps told wild stories about mythological characters while they sipped licorice tea, bundled up by the fireplace, safe and sound. Instead, she was in one of his more dangerous tall tales.
Huldo noticed her face shift. “You have fully recovered, I hope.”
“I’m a bit worn.”
Huldo heeded the disheveled room as a reminder. “I would love to chat, but I fear they will find us here if we loiter. It is not safe in Charlan anymore. Our allies tell me Tancreed disappeared last night. Garrick’s soldiers may come back here to check if you sought his counsel.”
“A moment.” Tyrsten hastily searched for a particular item.
Well-worn books, papers, strange brass instruments and random artifacts were knocked about on the tabletops and onto the floor. Whatever he was hunting for, it would take a miracle to find. The place resembled Ithia’s bedroom before she would get fed up with her own mess.
Without warning, a man burst in the door. His intense eyes met Ithia’s.
Her pulse flittered.
His black and gray garb identified him as a soldier.
The soldier headed directly at her.
Ithia let out a cry of terror and launched toward the door in the back of the room.
Too late. She was caught by the waist. She wrestled against strong arms and twisted to push the soldier away, but it was Tyrsten holding her.
Perhaps it had all been a trap.
She continued to struggle as he pulled her close into a protective embrace. “Ithia, all is well.”
“But—” She pointed at the solidly built man with his striking red hair, steel-gray eyes and his black leather armor with confusion. “You said—”
“Usually, yes, but he is not one of them. Feron is a trusted friend—disguised to spy and to travel freely.”
Feron shook off the impulse to stare into Ithia’s eyes. He then urged, “We must leave this house immediately. Patrols are about.”
Tyrsten gritted his teeth.
“Dag will take us in for the night,” Feron added.
As they left, Tyrsten’s keen eyes detected a small mark scrawled low on the wall. He ran back and pulled off the inscribed, wooden plank, revealing a secret compartment. Inside, he found a piece of parchment. He snatched it, replaced the board and hurried after the others.
They moved quickly but without drawing suspicion. The five minute trek to Dag’s house through potentially hostile streets made Ithia’s hands shake with nerves. Tyrsten and Ithia lagged thirty feet behind the other two. Upon arriving at the humble, wood-framed bungalow, Feron and Huldo entered right away.
Ithia expected to follow them, however Tyrsten took Ithia by the hand to wait a short distance from the house. They sat down on a low wall under the shade of a tree.
Tyrsten turned to her. “Keep your eyes hidden.”
“Shouldn’t we get inside?”
“If we are seen going into Dag’s home all at once, there is a greater chance of being noticed. We will enter when the day is old, just a while longer.”
“Why do we have to keep our eyes hidden?”
“The soldiers are after people with eyes like ours.”
An elderly woman limped by. Tyrsten’s body was relaxed and casual, but Ithia sensed his mind was tense as the woman glanced in his direction. The woman muttered something about unwanted visitors.
A moment of quiet passed, but Ithia needed the distraction of conversation. “Why?”
“No one can accuse you of not being curious.”
“And why didn’t you know that it was Huldo coming for us at Tancreed’s house? I thought you sense stuff.”
“Usually.” He coldly stared off in the opposite direction.
“Why didn’t your special Sight work?”
His voice was reserved. “You are a bit—distracting.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure if she was distracting or her meltdown was.
After sitting in silence for a half hour, the shroud of night was upon them. Tyrsten took her hand once again and hurried the short distance to Dag’s door.
Like Feron, Dag was dressed in soldier’s gray and black. He bowed when he greeted Ithia and hurried them inside. “It is my humble honor to have you share my space.” He, too, was transfixed by her eyes.
Ithia wasn’t accustomed to the compliments or the attention she was getting from these men. She blushed as the four of them now stared at her. Why were her eyes so interesting to them when they were familiar with Tyrsten’s?
Breaking his reverie, Dag offered to feed everyone. Feron helped in the kitchen while Tyrsten, Huldo and Ithia found themselves at the wooden plank table.
Ithia covertly scrutinized Dag. There was something that didn’t sit right. Was she already prejudiced against the soldier’s uniforms?
Huldo picked at a splinter on the table. “We were unable to capture the soldier who escaped that night. None of the soldiers disclosed any real details of their mission, except one did say they were to deliver the woman unharmed.”
Both Ithia’s and Tyrsten’s stomachs turned as they remembered how one of the men had other plans for Ithia.
Tyrsten nodded. “Good. He wants her alive for now.”
For now. Ithia shivered at the phrase. “A cloaked man acted as if he was in charge of me, and he wasn’t the commander. Did you find him?”
“That is the one that got away, I believe Nolan is still searching for him.” Huldo peered over Tyrsten’s shoulder to see Feron and Dag engrossed in cooking and arguing over recipes. He leaned toward Tyrsten and whispered, “What did you discover in Tancreed’s house?”
“A message. I have not read it. I believe he left it there for me.” Tyrsten glanced at her. “And Ithia.”
“May I see it?” Ithia stirred in her seat. Her eyes darted to where he concealed the note.
Tyrsten pulled the folded handmade parchment from his vest. He shielded his prize from the other two men with his back.
Ithia saw writing on the outside. “Is that my name?”
Tyrsten hushed her volume with movement of his hand. He opened the letter. “Can you read this w
riting?”
She studied the writing again. “No. I just felt it was my name.”
He read silently. Ithia tried reading over his shoulder, but being written in a foreign language, the words didn’t make much sense to her, although she grasped flashes of their meaning.
Tyrsten checked over his shoulder at the two in the kitchen. “I will tell you what it says when it is safe.”
Even though she wanted answers, she didn’t question his judgment on keeping this secret from the others. One man had already disappeared, likely on account of her.
Feron placed a deep plate of boiled vegetables steeped in a light broth in front of Ithia. “Naren brothers, you cannot keep her all to yourselves.” Feron sat next to her and winked.
Ithia raised her eyebrows, glancing back and forth. She compared Tyrsten’s perfect posture with Huldo’s casual slouch, Tyrsten’s dark to Huldo’s fairer features. Huldo was sunshine and Tyrsten was the piercing light of distant stars that echoed in his eyes. “Real brothers? Or is that a figure of speech?”
Huldo slapped the table and made a stoic face. “We are identical in every way.”
Tyrsten dismissed his sibling’s jest. “My brother is one solar-turn my junior.”
“In this life, but as you can tell he is a much older soul.” Huldo smirked at Tyrsten. “You must be the oldest person I know.”
“Are you finished?” Tyrsten suppressed a grin.
“Yes, Grandpapa Tyrsten.” Huldo nodded agreeably.
Feron comically eyed Tyrsten for a reaction while Dag shook his head with a laugh.
Ithia chuckled at their familial banter. She wasn’t the only one then that noticed Tyrsten’s controlled attitude, one continually balancing restraint with amiability.
Tyrsten poked back at his brother. “Yes, we were to be twins, but Huldo was off fooling around somewhere out in the spirit world, so he arrived exactly one solar-turn late.”
“Almost exactly,” Huldo corrected with a shake of his finger, “I added another day cycle just for myself.”
Dag placed a tankard of mead in front of Tyrsten. He waved a no-thank-you.
