Choices

by Mercedes Lackey

  “What happened?”

  “I was moving some of the stores around, and one of the shelves collapsed. Been saying we needed to replace those for months now! It crushed my leg, and I got trapped. Got lucky when the grain chute collapsed. Just missed me.”

  Paxia looked up as he told the story, opening her mouth to say something but stopping herself before any words came out. Hadn’t she helped? She could’ve sworn she had. But what could she have done? Her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to piece the memory of events back together, but they felt indistinct. She looked down and curled a fist as she tried to force her mind to remember.

  “Paxia, are you alright?”

  “Must’ve been scary, seeing someone almost die.”

  “She just stood there, didn’t do anything.”

  “Probably was terrified.”

  The voices closed around her, making her feel crowded, and she sank back further into the corner. They distracted her focus and made it harder to think. But through it all, nothing diminished the feeling of being studied and judged.

  * * *

  • • •

  Paxia stood up straight and let the blacksmith hammer drop from her fingers to thud into the dirt. She closed her eyes and began to shake, clenching her hands into fists to try to block the sensation. She knew if she looked back, no one would be there, but that did little to quell the sensation of someone watching her. Most days, the notion was a mild scratching at the back of her mind that she ignored thanks to the rhythmic hammer.

  “What’s wrong?” Reynaud asked as he walked into the room, carrying a yoke laden down with buckets of water that sloshed with each step. He put them down near the forge.

  Paxia reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose while taking a deep breath, taking comfort in the odor of coal smoke and heat. She shook her head, trying to clear it to no avail.

  “Let me guess, we’ve got a visiting Herald?”

  Reynaud stopped as he reached for one of the buckets and looked at the smith. He mouthed the single word “how” before continuing with his chores. Paxia reached up and rubbed the back of her neck, glad that the heat of the forge kept her skin red. She hoped it would hide some of her discomfort. She always knew when the Heralds came, ever since she was a girl. It heightened the sensation of the hidden watchers.

  After dumping the water into the reservoir, Reynaud came back around, tossing the empty buckets near the wall. Paxia bent down to pick up the hammer and tossed it in his direction. He caught it against his chest and looked at her with a single raised eyebrow.

  “Finish up these horseshoes. I’m going to take a break and will come back to check on your work.”

  She walked out of the forge, listening to the steady ring of hammer on metal behind her. On her way, she scooped up a handful of water and splashed it against the back of her neck, appreciating the cool drips that ran down on either side of her spine as she stood up and stretched her back. Once outside, she untied her hair, letting it drop down and feeling the weight of it tug against her scalp. She scooped up the light strands and tossed them over a shoulder, keeping her neck open to the air.

  Across the street, she saw a pure white horse staring at her in a way that reminded her of the pressure she never escaped from. Even if the legend of Companions wasn’t known throughout Valdemar, she would have recognized that the creature was far from normal. It wasn’t just its appearance, or its bright blue eyes that could enchant with a single glance. To her eyes, the horse had an aura of light surrounding it. She turned away, heading down the road and moving away from the creature. Her hand strayed up once again to the back of her neck as her steps quickened.

  As she came around the corner of her forge, she knocked a young girl to the ground as her stride carried her through the child. Paxia slid to a stop and crouched down, reaching out to the girl. “Are you okay, Tessa? I’m so sorry.”

  Paxia took the girl’s arm in her hand and helped her to stand back up. The youngster smiled and nodded. “I’m okay. I’m gonna go skip rocks on the ferry!”

  The last part was said with such a tone of confident authority that Paxia couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Well, then you better find the good ones.” She tousled Tessa’s hair before reaching down and picking up a rock from the ground. Brushing it off with her fingers, she handed it over. “Flat enough to just shoot across the water.”

  The girl took the rock and looked it over before scampering on her way with the urgency of a focused child. Paxia watched her go, her vision trailing across the Companion staring in her direction. The smile faded, and Paxia turned away, glad to be have the corner of the building between her and the watcher.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Herald left later that night, but the sense of being watched still clawed at Paxia’s awareness. She sat at one of the tables in her forge, enjoying the lingering heat of the day’s efforts as she cradled a cup of mead.

  Reynaud sat across from her, his own mug resting in his lap as he propped his ankles on the corner of the table. “Why don’t you like Heralds?” he asked, cutting to the question without any preamble.

  Paxia sighed and moved her hand in a circle, watching the waves of amber liquid climb the sides as they circled around. “It’s not that I don’t like them. I don’t have anything against them. I just feel uneasy when they’re around.”

  “Why? I mean, they just come around, ask some questions, and then they go on their way after taking care of a dispute or something.”

  He paused to offer Paxia a chance to respond, but when she didn’t, he continued. “If you ask me, their Companions are the amazing ones. Have you ever been lucky enough to spend time with one when they come by? They’re smart, smarter than a horse, and that’s saying something.”

  Paxia’s hand shook, disturbing her rhythm, and a few drops of mead splashed over the side of her cup, soaking into the wood of the table. She put her drink down and pulled her hands back, resting them under the table.

  “Do you ever get the feeling that—they’re watching you?” Paxia asked, her voice softer than normal as she posed the question to her apprentice.

  “Nah, not really. I mean, they watch everything I guess, and they’re smart, like I said. But I don’t think so.” He looked at her and tilted his head to the side as he noticed her discomfort. “You’re not worried they’re keeping an eye on you, are you? Why would they? You haven’t done nothing wrong, and you’re just a smith. I mean, a good smith, but you’re always helping folks. Why would they scare you?”

  “I’m not scared, just uneasy. There’s a difference.”

  Paxia crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting her eyes to stare at Reynaud as if daring him to challenge her statement. He raised his hands to either side to signal his surrender. They continued their drinks in silence until Reynaud finished his and left to return to his family’s home. Paxia remained at the table, playing with her mug and trying in vain to avoid the sensation that someone was lurking in the shadows of her forge, watching her. Always watching . . .

  Standing up, she hurled her wooden cup behind her. It struck the wall, and the vessel cracked from the force of the impact. But no one was there, just as she knew there wouldn’t be.

  Reaching up, she ran her fingers through her hair and dug into her scalp along the way. Every time a Herald visited, the hidden eyes grew in strength. Knowing that sleep would elude her for the next few days, she fired up the forge. Until the sensation dulled, the only sleep she’d get was from collapsing in exhaustion.

  Her hammer rang out through the night, the steady clang of metal on metal echoing through the village.

  * * *

  • • •

  The weather cooled, and the breeze felt refreshing as it danced through the open sides of Paxia’s forge. She caught the earthy smells of dirt and grass that warned of a forthcoming storm. She ke
pt her attention focused on her work as the wind picked up, only aware of the intensity of the storm when her shop descended into darkness usually reserved for sunset. Putting down her tools, Paxia stepped outside.

  As she did so, the wind whipped around her, hard enough to make her take a step with its intensity. It tugged at her hair, yanking it free and snapping it out to her side. The dark clouds looked like coals cooled beyond the point of being useful. A storm this intense hadn’t assaulted their village since before Paxia had started her apprenticeship.

  Several people rushed past her, running down the road toward the river. Reynaud saw her, and she gestured for him to come close, fearing her call would be lost on the wind.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted in his ear to be heard over the howling.

  “Some of the children were playing in the river and are stuck on the other side. We’re trying to get a crew to rescue them.”

  Paxia didn’t wait for him to finish explaining before she ran off to join the others in their rescue attempt. The wind made the surface of the river froth with whitecaps. On the far side, three children sat huddled around a fourth who lay on his back unmoving. The rope connecting the two sides snapped in the wind and rain, but the ferry the children used to cross was torn apart. Pieces of it lay scattered on the shore downstream from the crossing.

  As Paxia ran up, a couple of villagers tried to get to the far side, using the rope to move hand-over-hand. But the river slapped at their bodies and tore them free. Only the lifeline around their waists kept them from being washed downstream or pulled underwater.

  The people stood around the rope support, screaming at each other as they tried to brainstorm a way across. Paxia stood far enough away that their words were lost long before they reached her. She stared at the surging waters, shaking her head.

  “What is it?” Reynaud asked, coming up behind her.

  “We’ll never get across with the storm this strong.”

  “Are you saying we should leave them? Cayl could be hurt!” Reynaud gestured at the boy in the mud.

  “No. We need to do something . . .” Paxia’s words died as she felt herself grow distant, and the entire world seemed to lose distinction. She no longer felt the needles of rain stabbing into her flesh. The howling wind mixed with the voices to form one continuous song that bore no meaning.

  Paxia dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, reaching out with her hands and feeling something that wasn’t there. The smith felt the eyes behind her, boring into her soul and growing in number. It felt as though they existed right behind her neck, but she tried to push them away and focus on . . .

  Paxia wasn’t sure what she focused on. She only knew she needed to help the children. There was no way they’d get across the river with the storm raging.

  As she focused, the wind slowed down. The continuous gale weakened to strong gusts, until those too became pale imitations of their earlier intensity. Paxia felt a different current, something other than the wind and the water, what she could only describe as a pulsing lifeline under the ground itself. In her mind’s eye, she dared to touch it, letting the energy of it flow up through her arms and into the sky above. She didn’t know why, but it felt right on a level she could never explain.

  The stares in her back became painful daggers that made her shiver and want to scream, but she continued to focus.

  “Paxia, get up! The storm is weakening!” Reynaud reached out and grabbed her shoulder, shaking it.

  The smith snapped her eyes open and pushed his arm away. Her other hand came around and her palm slammed into his chest, shoving him away hard enough that he slipped and fell into the mud.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

  She jumped to her feet and bolted, running in the direction of her forge. The weight of the stare followed her. People stopped and watched as she ran past, people she’d known her entire life, people who had helped raise her or she had helped raise. They whispered questions, and Paxia knew she had to be the subject of their secret conversations.

  When she reached the forge, the smith grabbed the wall to pull herself around and flatten her back against the treated wood as she panted for air. But she still felt watched. Measured. Judged.

  Snagging her hammer from the ground, she attacked the wall, swinging her weapon into it several times and making pieces fracture off and lance through her flesh. She continued attacking the structure until she collapsed to her knees, eyes shut tight, gulping down air. The weight of the stares continued pressing down on her, and she curled up over her knees, fingers digging into her shins hard enough to bruise.

  * * *

  • • •

  Time bore no meaning, and Paxia couldn’t say how long she lay in that position. At some point, Reynaud entered the forge and eased down to place a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him and blinked several times as if banishing sleep from her eyes. Looking past him, she saw the sky was dark, and stars sparkled in the dark canvas.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  When she moved to sit up, he winced, pulling his hand back. The motion was subtle, but enough to make Paxia realize the damage that had been done.

  “I think so,” she lied. The skin at the back of her neck still crawled, and she reached up to rub it, trying to chase away the insects that weren’t there. “How are the children?”

  Reynaud sat back on his heels and offered a light smile. “Good. The storm cleared up just in time. As soon as it did, a few people got across and carried them back.” His smile faded and he took a quick breath. “Cayl hit his head on a rock when the ferry got ripped apart and hasn’t woken up. They sent for a Healer.”

  “I’m glad.” She paused. “Sorry about pushing you away. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it. If you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Paxia nodded and pushed herself up. Reynaud offered her a hand to help her stand and then turned away, taking long strides to get out of the forge. With a sigh, the smith snagged the bottle of mead standing on the table. She hoped it might chase away the ghosts clawing at her mind.

  After an hour, she realized the futility of that approach and went to work. As she attacked the metal, she had no image in her mind, no goal she worked toward. She brought the hammer down over and over, using the motion to tire herself out. As time wore on, she used more force, knowing those eyes continued to judge her behavior. With a scream, she slammed down hard enough to snap the haft of her hammer with a solid crack.

  Paxia collapsed to a knee, draping her arm over the anvil. She looked up and saw Tessa standing at the entrance to her forge, staring with wide eyes.

  “Get out,” Paxia snarled. “Stop staring!”

  She hurled the broken handle in the child’s direction. The girl ran off, and the smith collapsed to the ground in front of the anvil, falling into the blissful ignorance of exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Healer came two days later, and Paxia knew he arrived before the news spread. Her watchers had started to become uninterested only to spark in intensity, which made her snap again at Reynaud, chasing him from her forge. After he left, her shoulders slumped and she collapsed in a chair, draping her arms in front of her across the table. She regretted the words as soon as they flew from her mouth, but that was too late.

  When she heard a shuffle in the dirt behind her, she jumped up and turned around.

  “I’m sorry, Reynaud . . .” her sentence died as she saw the stranger in her forge.

  He was about her height, dressed in fine traveling clothes that far exceeded anything she saw in her village. His head was shaved smooth, with only a bare hint of stubble showing. He carried a sword on his hip and managed to look comfortable and graceful without being ostentatious or lording his wealth and position. Some part of her wanted to like him as soon as h
er eyes fell upon him.

  “Greetings. I am Herald Adouin. I came here to heal the young boy, Cayl.”

  Paxia felt her hand twitch as it tried to reach up to the back of her neck, but she willed it to stay in place. Her desire to like the man fled as soon as he revealed his title.

  “How is he?” she asked, keeping her voice even.

  “He is well. There was some swelling under his skull from striking the rocks, but I’ve managed to bring it down. He should be fine within a day or so. The advantage of youth.”

  He offered a smile that Paxia imagined worked well on ladies—and possibly lords as well. However, she couldn’t chase the feeling of the lurkers just beyond her ability to see. His presence agitated them, made them feel more pressing, as though the sound went from a dull pulse to a sharp buzzing. It served as a potent antidote to his charms.

  “That’s good,” Paxia said in a clipped voice as she went back to the anvil and picked up her hammer. She worked on her latest commission, ignoring him.

  Despite the brusque interaction, he stepped closer. He kept his hands behind his back, whether to hide them or as some sort of formality, she couldn’t tell.

  “Would you be willing to accompany me on a walk?”

  “What for?” Paxia asked, continuing to ring her hammer against the metal.

  “There’s something I wish to discuss with you.” He paused. “It concerns the safety of your village, of the children like Cayl.”

  Those words made the smith stop with her hammer held above her head. After a moment, she tucked it into her belt and nodded, gesturing for the Herald to lead on.

  She fell into step behind him as they took a route that led them to the nearest border of the village. The Companion walked up beside Adouin, lowering her head so that she could rub her face against his arm. She looked at Paxia, and the human glanced away.