“It will come to you in time,” she said after several hours of fruitless effort.
“Why can I only feel it when I’m angry?” he asked. His head was pounding and his back ached from sitting cross-legged for so long.
“In a sense, the flow is passion,” she explained. “Most are taught to feel it from a young age. I was barely three when my lessons began. Your sisters were also very young. Children are emotional beings, so it’s easier for them to learn to feel it than it is for an adult. Once you pass your childhood, you learn to control your base instincts. But it is these very instincts that you need.”
That she referred to him as an adult was oddly gratifying. His father had told him many times of his own struggles when he was coming of age. Not that Jayden had any such insecurities. Those he had regular contact with had stopped treating him like a child the moment he began working full days in the fields. Most boys after they came of age assumed themselves adult, but he had felt as though he were a man long before his official birthday.
On those occasions when someone would tease him about his youth, he merely found it irritating. Their taunts made no impact whatsoever on his confidence. He knew very well who he was. For as long as he could remember, both his parents had made a point of instilling him with a sense of pride and self-worth. Because of this, some in the village had considered him arrogant, claiming that the Stedding family thought they were better than everyone else. But this was nothing more than petty jealousy, easy to see through, and easier still to ignore.
Over the next few days, Jayden noticed a change come over Sayia. Though she still looked at him in a peculiar way from time to time, she was now starting to smile more often, despite their lessons continuing with very little progress. By the time they reached the banks of the Goodbranch, he had barely managed to accomplish the basic ability of hearing the pulse of the earth. And even then, it was faint.
Upon crossing the river, Sayia allowed him to take the lead, citing his familiarity with the region. This was only partially true. He knew the maps well enough, but they were many miles south of Helenia. Aside from this recent trip to Baltria, he had never actually traveled so far away from home.
They chanced upon a small band of elves just as the flatlands and forest gave way to the grassy hills of the Eastland kingdoms. Jayden was a bit nervous at first, but he soon learned they were not elves journeying to the desert. These had built their homes among the hills and were simple craftsmen and artisans who sold their goods to the nearby towns and villages. They accepted him as a full-blooded elf without question, as they did Sayia’s story that they were heading for Dantory to visit kin. They even went so far as to offer them lodging for the night. After weeks of sleeping on hard ground, it was an offer they eagerly accepted.
Jayden found their hosts to be of good humor and free with their hospitality, quite different from the elves in Sharpstone, who tended to keep mostly to themselves and were reluctant to speak to anyone unless approached directly. Rather than taking an interest in the events happening in other lands, these elves seemed to care nothing for the troubles in the west. They considered those escaping to the desert to be most foolish.
“Nothing has changed,” said an older woman named Glorsia. They were gathered around a small fire just outside the home of a weaver, where the group habitually gathered each evening to sing and talk. “I was a tailor before the war. And I’m still one now. What should I care that humans are wearing the clothes I make? They don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them.”
“So they give you no trouble at all?” asked Sayia.
“The humans? Not a bit. All a bunch of silliness if you ask me.” She eyed Jayden, who was sitting on the ground near the fire. “And where exactly are you from?”
“I was born across the Abyss,” he replied. “But I was raised in a small town along the Goodbranch.” It seemed like a good lie. The elves from Sayia’s land who crossed over were few. It would explain his accent and unusually large frame.
“Raised?” she laughed. “You can’t be a day over twenty.”
Jayden smiled. “Eighteen. Even so, humans say I’m of age.”
“Humans mature faster,” she said. “With such short lives, they have to. As for yourself, don’t forget to enjoy your youth, child. The first one hundred years are when you have the most fun.”
He suppressed a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The woman clicked her tongue. “You already sound too old, if you ask me.”
The first one hundred years. The concept was difficult to fathom. He knew that newbreeds lived longer than humans, though exactly how long was unknown. It was a question he had asked his mother on many occasions when he was a child. She’d only told him that he would definitely live for a very long time, which was more or less what any mother would say to a child who began to think about their own mortality. Dina looked young, and that comforted him. But then his thoughts would turn to his father. At the time he’d believed him to be human. It would bring him to tears thinking that he would watch him grow old and die.
“You’ll have your father around for a long time,” his mother had promised. And it was true; he did not appear to age. A few lines around his eyes was all. Apart from this, he looked very much the same year after year.
Now he knew the truth. It was he who would age, and his father would live on forever.
The morning after, they were directed to a lesser-used road that the elves said would be a faster way through the hills. As they walked, Jayden found his mind wandering to events of his childhood when his father would take him to Gath. Those occasions were rare, but he had always enjoyed their times together. Thinking back, he tried to recall anything his father might have said or done while they were away from home that would have given a clue to his true identity. How could someone with so much power resist using it? And why had he chosen such a mundane life? Why a farmer, of all things?
He noticed Sayia looking at him out of the corner of her eye again. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asked.
“Doing what?”
“Staring at me.”
“I haven’t noticed that I do,” she replied.
“All the time. What is it?”
“You remind me of someone. That’s all.”
“A husband or boyfriend?”
He had considered the possibility that she might be attracted to him. But though she was certainly beautiful, he did not feel the same. When he looked at her, nothing stirred within him.
“I am unmarried,” she replied. “And I have no suitor.”
“Who, then?”
A touch of annoyance crept into her voice. “My grandfather, if you must know.”
Jayden laughed. “Your grandfather? Surely I don’t look that old.”
“My grandfather is a kind and gentle man,” she responded, frowning. “And you would do quite well to become as wise and good.”
Jayden held up his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sure he’s wonderful.”
Her expression was peculiar – a mixture of low boiling anger and sorrow. “He raised me from the age of three. He was the one who first taught me how to use the flow.”
“Really? Where were your parents?”
She hesitated for a long moment. “I would rather not talk about that.”
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to know more about you. We still have a long way to go.”
Her eyes were now fixed firmly on the road ahead. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just that I have trouble speaking of my past. I miss home terribly; my grandfather in particular.”
A tear formed in her eye, but she wiped it quickly away before it fell.
“So why did you come here?” he asked. “And why stay for so long, if you miss home?”
“I am accomplished in the flow, and the elves here were in need of instruction.”
“Let me guess. You felt like it was your duty to help them.”
“My grandfather did. Not I. He
asked me to come. I could not refuse.”
“So he sent you away?”
She nodded. “I admit I was hurt by the request. But I now understand his reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She glanced up at the late afternoon sky. “I think we will stop early today. I am growing tired.”
He frowned. The wounds she had suffered were no longer hindering her, and hadn’t done so for many days. Whatever was in that salve, it had worked far better than Jayden would have thought possible. He considered that perhaps he should not have asked about her home, as it seemed to have brought Sayia to a dark place.
They halted an hour before sunset. Typically, they would eat and then begin their daily lesson. This time, however, Sayia unrolled her blanket and lay down without so much as unpacking a morsel. Although feeling guilty for putting her in this state, Jayden was afraid to say anything more. He well understood the pain of missing those you loved. Any further words from him would likely make matters worse.
He had trouble sleeping that night. Usually a hard day’s walk followed by several hours of training left him spent. Without these exertions he was restless, so he decided to practice on his own.
It didn’t take long for him to become frustrated. Without guidance, he found the flow to be even more elusive; he couldn’t hear or feel even the slightest pulse. Unable to concentrate, his thoughts kept drifting back to Sayia. There was something in her expression whenever she stole a glance at him. Though it had bothered him in Baltria, he had taken it for her simply being judgmental. Now he pondered more deeply on the matter. What exactly did she see when she looked at him? Surely it had to be more than merely resembling her grandfather.
On waking the following morning, he found her to be in better spirits. The melancholy of the previous day appeared to have been banished. So much so, she even took to humming a lively tune as they threaded the hills at a rapid pace. He wondered what had changed, but did not dare to ask.
Shortly after their midday meal, they caught sight of a small village to the north.
“We need to resupply soon,” Jayden pointed out. Though they still had a few days’ worth of food, their water was almost spent.
“Yes,” Sayia agreed. “I think I would like to sleep in a bed tonight. And you could very much use a bath.”
He raised an arm and sniffed. “Smells fine to me.”
“Believe me, it does not.”
He caught the hint of a wry grin. Whatever had changed her mood, he hoped it would continue. Sadly, his instincts told him this was a temporary reprieve. There was definitely something still weighing on her mind, and it was unlikely she would be willing to share it with him. It could simply be down to being homesick, of course, yet somehow he felt it went deeper than that.
He wondered if the events in the temple were still causing her distress, especially the death of the young boy Maybell had told him about. Such horrors were far from easy to set aside.
“Are you sure we should risk staying the night here?” he asked as they drew near the village.
“Perhaps not,” she replied. “But I do not sense the presence of a Vrykol.”
Jayden said no more. The idea of a decent meal and a soft bed was appealing to him as well. And with Sayia’s abilities, any foes other than a Vrykol would be easily dealt with.
They rounded the west end to approach from the road.
A small faded sign indicated that they were entering Harvest Hill. Though from first glance he could see it was not a farming town, Jayden counted no fewer than six liveries situated along the main road. More likely a place for horse trading, then. The route they were on cut dead center of the Eastland, and several large cities were within a hundred miles. It was a logical place to trade. There was actually a fair chance that some of the horses bred in Sharpstone might be here.
The buildings were of sturdier construction than he’d expected, the streets were clean, and the people walking about appeared to be in good spirits. In a way, it reminded him of home. A few people took notice of their passing, but no one seemed to care that there were two elves in their midst, leading Jayden to deduce it was probably a common sight.
The aroma of spices and fresh bread lured them to a small inn, where they found the common room to be lively and filled almost to capacity. A young man wearing a stained apron bounded up as they entered, a perplexed look on his face.
“Are you two needing a room?” he asked.
“And a meal,” said Sayia.
“Really? Here?”
“Is that a problem?” Jayden asked.
The boy held up his hands. “No problem at all. It’s just that the elves who pass through here don’t usually care much for human cooking. They prefer the rooms at the Prince and Herald.” His smile widened. “But if you want to stay here, you are most welcome. They have enough business.”
“It looks like you’re not doing too bad yourself,” remarked Jayden.
“It’s my father’s birthday,” he explained. “We’re not usually this busy.” His gaze shifted to the weapons on their belts. “You’ll need to leave those in your room, though. We don’t want to scare folks.”
Sayia nodded her agreement. “We’ve been traveling for a long time,” she said. “We would very much like to clean up.”
An older man standing near the bar called over in their direction. “Matt! Stop standing around. Get on with your work.”
The boy rolled his eyes, then gave an embarrassed grin. “That’s my father. Sorry. He’s been at the wine since early this morning.”
Sayia fished out a silver coin from her pouch and handed it over. “I understand. This should be enough to cover our rooms and meals.”
“I’m afraid we’ve only one room left,” he responded. “But I’ll have a cot and some wash water brought to you right away.”
He whistled to another man, slightly older and with sagging shoulders, who meandered unhappily over. Matt issued a few quick instructions, while all the time his father continued calling for him over the noise of the crowd.
Jayden noticed Sayia stiffen uncomfortably. “I’ll drop off my things and then wait out here while you clean up,” he said.
“Yes, you will,” she told him.
They were led through the crowd and down a narrow hall. The room itself was small but tidy. A chest of drawers and a brass washbasin were at the rear, and a single bed sat off to the right.
“I’ll be back with some water,” the man said.
After placing his pack in the corner, Jayden removed his sword. “I’ll be in the common room,” he said. On impulse, he flashed an impish grin. “Unless you want me to stay.”
A look of utter revulsion appeared on Sayia’s face. “Suggest that again and you will be sleeping in the street tonight.”
“I was only joking,” he protested, backing hastily toward the door.
“Get out!” she shouted.
More than a little taken aback by her volatile reaction, Jayden retreated to the common room. After taking a seat at the bar, he regarded his surroundings more closely. A flautist was playing in the far corner, much to the delight of several patrons who were dancing and singing along with the melody. As for Matt, he was still rushing back and forth, serving drinks and doing his best to ignore his father’s constant shouts for him to work faster.
Sayia emerged after half an hour dressed in fresh clothing, her hair damp and pulled into a tight ponytail. She sat beside him without a word.
“I really was only playing around,” Jayden told her. “There’s no need to be angry.”
“Get cleaned up,” she said, her eyes focused straight ahead. “I’m hungry.”
Heaving a sigh, he returned to their room. A cot had been brought in and shoved into the corner as far away from the bed as was possible. The remaining water was no longer warm, but he was accustomed to using cold anyway. In short order he was washed and clad in a pair of fresh trousers and a shirt.
By the time he r
eturned to the common room, Sayia had moved from the bar to a table, where a plate of steaming vegetables and roast pork awaited him.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, plopping down opposite her.
“What you suggested was improper,” she said. “Do not do it again.”
“I said it was a joke.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
Jayden stuffed some pork in his mouth and shook his head, chuckling softly. He knew it wasn’t appropriate. Had his mother heard him speak to a woman in such a way, particularly one he barely knew, she would have boxed his ears. His father would not have liked it either. Then again, his father was about as polite and proper as anyone could ever imagine – never engaging in the coarse humor or crude innuendos common with field hands.
They ate in silence for a time. Finally, Sayia pushed her plate aside and met his eyes.
“I might have overreacted,” she admitted. “I am unused to such familiarity.”
He smiled. “Your grandfather must have been as stiff as my father.” He regretted the words as soon as he’d spoken them.
“My grandfather is a man of good humor. He is anything but stiff.”
“I’m sure he is,” Jayden quickly said. “I wasn’t trying to be insulting.”
“You there! Elf.” It was the voice of Matt’s father. Jayden turned to see him staggering over in their direction. “Sing us an elf song.”
This suggestion was met by loud cries and hoots of encouragement. The man leaned both hands against their table. Jayden wanted to cover his nose from the reek of wine on his breath.
“You wouldn’t want to hear me sing,” he said.
“It’s my bloody birthday, and it’s my inn,” he argued, letting out a loud belch. “And I want to hear a bloody elf song.”
Matt rushed over to grab his father’s arm. “Go sit down and leave him alone. I’ll bring you more wine.” He shot Jayden an apologetic look.
The innkeeper yanked his arm free, almost toppling over in the process. “You mind your own business, boy.”
The Godling Chronicles Page 21
