Daughter of Lightning

by Anna Logan

  She noticed one of the boys from school, next. Rando EslemDre, the one boy she was actually friends with. He had three younger siblings. His family sat ahead of hers, which she preferred to wondering if he was watching her from behind for the whole service.

  Brenly entered, trailing her uncle Calam. She’d come to live with him in Vissler after her parents died when she was eight. Whenever Talea imagined what that must have been like, she admired her friend all the more. She watched as Calam, with a cheerful greeting for everyone he passed, made his way to the very front row of benches and sat down. Talea knew that his shy, reserved niece had no desire to sit at the front, but it seemed that Calam had never caught onto that fact.

  Soon, everyone was in their place. The building barely fit them all. If the village kept growing, it wouldn’t for much longer. Talea switched her attention to the elevated platform at the front, from which Miss Abley usually taught. Today, it was a withered old man who limped up to the podium. Teacher Orvlin. He looked at his audience with dull eyes and spoke from thin, chapped lips: “Des bigai oli Nareon’s rahkmer, trul Yes mapsey. Oli shylem eshla gon othhon.”

  Talea translated the familiar words from Calnec-Arayn to Zentyren in her mind. “We gather in Narone’s name, for His glory. In peace let us learn.” She murmured the scripted reply along with everyone else. “Eshla cep adi.” “Let it be so.”

  After that, the teacher opened a weathered book, the Benhi’Leyon, or Storybook, and began reading. It was called such because it supposedly contained dozens of stories of heroic individuals used by Narone in times past. Those stories weren’t usually what they heard on Eundays, however. More often, it was commandments. The way she saw it, it should have been called the Rulebook.

  She did her best to listen for a while. Then Teacher Orvlin started ranting about the importance of following these commandments, lest their souls suffer torturous punishment in the life to come, and she tuned it out with a frown. Here was what she knew about Narone, the supposed God and Creator of Kameon: He had lots of rules. When people died, they either got to enter some paradise, or they were severely punished if they didn’t follow those rules while they were alive. He supposedly did wonders in the days of the tales the Storybook told. He didn’t seem to be doing any wonders now, or for some time, even.

  That was it. Under that description, she didn’t see any reason to think Him more believable than the Irlaish gods. Just like them, Narone didn’t appear to have a whole lot of interest in what became of the humans He supposedly created. He didn’t appear to have a significant role in her life, or the lives of those around her. So why bother listening to the teacher’s message? If there really was some after-death punishment, which she doubted, well, she’d been following Narone’s rules all her life.

  Hoping Teacher Orvlin was getting close to a conclusion, Talea casually scanned the familiar faces around her. Only then did she notice—the Stennots were nowhere to be seen.

  ~♦~

  Talea tapped the eraser end of her pencil against the desk, the rubber muting the sound. This history lesson was lasting forever. Miss Abley’s voice droned on, and on, and on. Likelihood of staying awake and paying attention and learning something? Not high. Her mind kept straying to more interesting topics. She’d flipped through the book Miss Abley had given her about weather last night. It certainly hadn’t had any information about people that were struck by lightning on their birthdays and could control it...The only conclusion it had offered was that the situation definitely wasn’t normal. As if I didn’t know that already.

  Something brushed her elbow. There, on the desk beside her arm, was a folded slip of paper. Someone had passed her a note. She picked it up and held it beneath the desk so Miss Abley wouldn’t be able to see it. Unfolding it revealed small, legible yet inelegant handwriting.

  Are you going to the dance?

  For a brief moment, she frowned, wondering who would have written the note and why…and then her cheeks flushed with warmth. It was Rando’s handwriting.

  Swallowing and forcing her smile into a more neutral expression, she slipped the note into the pages of one of her books. Better not to let Miss Abley see it, or they’d both be in trouble. As tempted as she was to answer it now, with a note of her own, she wasn’t willing to break the rules. She could talk to him after school, in two hours.

  She was just getting to the point of having to resist dozing again when another note appeared at her elbow. Her lips were stretching with another irresistible smile. Talea repeated the process of hiding then opening it.

  If so, can I have the first two dances?

  Now her cheeks were really flaming. Apparently she could no longer honestly tell Brenly that Rando had given her no reason to suspect he had more than friendship in mind.

  When Miss Abley finally dismissed the class two hours later, Talea didn’t leap from her seat to escape as quickly as possible, as she usually did. Instead she took her time, leisurely picking up her books and letting the other students get out ahead of her. By the time she got outside, it was only her, a couple other stragglers, and Rando.

  Taking a deep breath, Talea rotated slowly to face Rando and his large, questioning eyes above a pointy nose. “Hey.”

  He shuffled his feet. “Hey...”

  “So um...” She wet her lips with her tongue, and finally let herself smile at him. “Yeah, I’m going, and I’d uh, I’d love to dance with you.”

  “Great.” He grinned, sheepishly. “I mean, thanks.”

  Talea ducked her head, folding her hands behind her back. Leave. Run. There was no way she could stay much longer without it becoming unbearably awkward, or without her making a fool of herself, or something. But leaving wasn’t exactly what she wanted to do.

  Movement caught her eye. She looked to the left. At the edge of the schoolyard, shadowed by the surrounding woods, stood a man. He was wearing a hood and a black mask that covered his mouth and jaw, concealing everything except his nose and cheeks. The rest of his apparel was no less bizarre. Was he wearing armor?

  Most disconcerting, however, was that despite the hood and mask, she could tell he was watching them.

  Her mouth felt dry. “Um….who’s...”

  Rando peered at her worriedly, before following her gaze. His eyes widened a bit, and they both just stared as the man started walking toward them. He strode forward until he was only a few paces away. Up close, he was even more odd, and intimidating. His shoulders and chest were protected by an iron pauldron, while iron gauntlets that had what looked like curved, fin-like blades sticking out adorned his forearms. There was a sword at his hip, and an array of knives on his belt.

  He broke their shocked silence. “Good afternoon to you. Excuse me young man, but I was hoping I might talk to Talea a moment.” His voice was cool, deep.

  Oh, great. The freaky stranger also knew her name. She watched Rando for his response. Don’t you dare say—

  “Uh, uh, sure. I mean,” Rando swallowed audibly, “Of course.” He dipped his head to the man and left.

  Blushing smile quite gone, Talea drew a deep breath, steeling herself to face the man alone. To keep from fidgeting, she clasped her hands around her books tightly, knuckles turning white. She forced herself to look at him straight on. “Who are you, sir?”

  He started toward the edge of the forest he’d come from and made a beckoning motion with his hand. “Come. I can’t speak with you openly.”

  She faltered, caught off guard by the request. Surely this man didn’t expect her to follow him alone into the forest. Though her curiosity over the man’s identity pricked at the edges of her mind, instinct and common sense kept her from moving an inch toward him. She stood still and said with as much power as she could muster, “No.”

  He stopped. The hooded head cocked toward her, and she could almost feel the smile under his mask. “No?” he turned back to her. “Good.”

  What? She didn’t understand why he seemed pleased by her response, but she continued, “I�
��m sure you can understand…After all, you didn’t tell me who you are.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t reveal my identity quite yet.”

  “So...” she adjusted the books she held under one arm. “What is it you want?”

  His hooded head shook a little. “It’s complicated.”

  “What sort of complicated?” she realized the usual noise the kids made as they left the schoolhouse wasn’t there. No doubt they’d noticed the stranger and were quietly speed-walking away. She didn’t blame them. Chances were good that this was one of Lord Vissler’s men, and he’d been bored and decided to dress up and play a prank. She gulped against the thought and pressed, “And how do you know who I am?”

  “I’m actually not supposed to be talking to you. But,” he shrugged casually, as if that were explanation enough. She almost thought she saw the glint of his eyes in the shadow of the hood. “I look forward to when our paths cross again, Talereinna.” With that, he was gone.

  Talea watched until he was out of sight, rooted to the spot. No one in the village, including Lord Vissler or his men, knew that her full name was Talereinna.

  Yet this man did.

  ~♦~

  “Mom!” Talea drew out the word as she skulked into the kitchen, the delicious, fruity fragrance of srenberry tarts meeting her. “I can’t decide which dress to wear.”

  Seles pulled a pan of the tarts from the stove. Golden brown, the jelly inside oozing out, they were mouthwatering. “What are your choices?”

  Few and pitiful. “The pink one or the teal one.”

  “Mmm.” Seles was already putting together the next batch of tarts. Since they were for the potluck at the dance, there needed to be a lot of them. “I say teal. You’d best hurry and see if it needs mending, though.”

  “Right.” Talea returned to her bedroom, or her half of a bedroom, anyway. The two dresses were laid out on her bed, neither looking particularly appealing. She checked the teal one over, finding some stitching coming undone on one of the sleeves. After locating a needle and thread, she sat down and set to work.

  As she was finishing, a knock came at her door. “Come in.”

  It opened and Brenly slipped in. She wore a simple, light blue frock and a ribbon in her hair to match. It went nicely with her copper hair.

  “You look lovely.” Talea smiled. She was desperate to tell Brenly about the mysterious conversation with the even more mysterious man, two days ago. There hadn’t been an opportunity to talk to her friend since. But the walls of the haliop weren’t very soundproof—too great a chance Seles might overhear. She picked up the two dresses, holding one in each hand. “What do you think? Mom says teal.”

  “I agree with your mother. The teal will compliment your eyes.”

  That was true, it would bring out her green eyes. “Decided, then. Will you close the door?” Since Naylen wasn’t around, she could have the full bedroom, not just half.

  Brenly shut the door, and Talea quickly swapped the dress and apron she wore for the teal gown. It wasn’t any less simple and practical than her other garments, just the least worn and a nice color. “What do you think, black sash?”

  “Definitely.”

  She picked up the sash and tied it around her waist. After she braided her hair, they helped Seles finish making tarts in the kitchen. Naylen came in from tending to Rose, his hair and clothes a mess, his nose sniffing the fruity air. “Are those srenberry tarts?” he asked, hand already reaching for one of the pans.

  Talea swatted his hand away. “Those are for the dance, mister. And you’re a fine mess, you are!”

  He threw his hands in the air as he started down the hallway to their bedroom. “I’m going, I’m going.”

  Half an hour later, the tarts were baked, everyone was dressed and groomed, and it was time to go. Butterflies seemed to be exploring Talea’s insides as they walked to the village. Seven o’clock in mid-summer, the air was warm and fresh, the sun slowly lowering toward the horizon. They arrived at the schoolhouse to find it a far cry from the dreary place it had been a few hours ago during school. Hanging candles were suspended from the edge of the roof, providing a cozy yellow light. Tables and chairs had been set up outside the building. One table was dedicated entirely to food, the smell of which drifted toward them to make their stomachs growl. Lord Vissler had provided them with a fiddler and flutist to play music for the dancing. A portion of the yard had been cleared to serve as a dance floor.

  Talea and Brenly exchanged a smile. They trailed Loestin, Seles, and Naylen as they advanced toward the tables and the villagers gathered there. She couldn’t help glancing around, on the probably nonexistent chance that the hooded man would be lurking about somewhere. Ever since the bizarre encounter, she hadn’t been able to shake the fear that he could be watching her. She hadn’t even practiced with the lightning in the woods, just in case.

  No sign of him, just familiar faces. Seles almost immediately was chatting with a couple of other women. Loestin went to stand and converse with a few of the other stoners. Naylen was eyeing the table of food, which people were lining up around, filling their plates. “Well, you girls as hungry as I am?”

  With nods, they followed him to the back of the line and shuffled forward until it was their turn. Talea had to swallow the excess saliva in her mouth. So much food, such delicious smells. The only reason she didn’t heap her plate as high as she could was because Seles would chastise her for it. Once they were seated at one of the tables, all three of them didn’t say a word as they focused solely on the food. Talea would have gone back for seconds and even thirds, if it weren’t for Seles elbowing her in discouragement, and the fact that her usually flat stomach was already stretching the waistband of her dress. There was no sign of the mysterious stranger, so she tried to keep her focus on the dance and the food.

  For a few minutes, pleasant conversation buzzed about the tables. Calam, sitting beside his niece, had everyone within earshot riveted to their seats with a story that perhaps otherwise would have been dull, were it not for his animated telling of it.

  Then the music started. The energetic melody was coaxing couples onto the makeshift dance floor within seconds. A hand tapped Talea’s shoulder. She turned, and there was Rando. Wearing slightly nicer clothes than usual, with his hair combed back, he looked somewhere between more awkward and more adorable. “May I? Um, have this dance?”

  She smiled a little at him. “Of course.” Slipping her hand into his, she walked with him to the clearing, where he put his other hand on her waist and she put hers on his shoulder, and they merged into the dance. Neither of them had ever danced except for when they’d been taught by their parents. They were a little clumsy, a little unsure. It was okay, though. She just laughed when one of them misstepped, and Rando would nervously laugh with her, gradually relaxing until his laughter sounded genuine.

  Talea was undeniably sorry when the dance ended. So when Rando asked for the next, she agreed. This song was even more lively, bringing her heart rate up to speed with her feet.

  Panting and smiling, Talea declined his offer of a third, saying she wanted a break. She returned to where Brenly stood watching the dancers.

  She raised both eyebrows as Talea approached. “How’d it go?”

  “Fine,” she hoped her expression didn’t give away her excitement. Taking up her place beside her friend, she considered telling her about the man…No, too many people around. It would just have to wait for another day. Which was both infuriating and terrifying. He could be dangerous. He probably was dangerous. She would feel better if Brenly at least knew.

  Just stop thinking about it. She watched the next dance begin. Her parents were among those on the floor. Both were smiling, and Seles laughing, as they twirled about with the other couples. Talea rubbed her index finger and thumb together. Unlike some of the arranged marriages Talea knew of among the villagers, Seles and Loestin’s had turned out well. There was no conflict. Nor did they simply tolerate each other, or even only
like one another. They’d fallen in love, even if it had been after they were married.

  It was just the way of things. It would probably be her story, in another year or two. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible. Maybe she’d have the same fortune as her parents, and after a while she would love him, whoever the him turned out to be.

  Her thoughtful frown hardened. She didn’t want maybes, or after-a-whiles. She didn’t want to settle, to marry whoever her parents chose for her and become a submissive housewife and raise his children in a cramped haliop in Vissler Village and never be free.

  Something nudged her arm. Brenly was looking at her. “Mmm, sorry, what?”

  Brenly’s eyes narrowed. “What are you so deep in thought about?”

  Talea laughed dryly. She opened her mouth to reply, thought better of it, and shrugged. “Whether or not my mom would notice if I got more food.”

  “She might not, but Akod and Jarle certainly will.”

  “What?” she scanned the crowd. Sure enough, two young men were meandering toward them. Akod and Jarle. If she remembered right, they were twenty-two and twenty, the Praserloys’ sons. “Oh. What do we do? Run? Hide?”

  Brenly, frowning a little, sighed. “Neither, as you well know. Look on the bright side—your mother will be extremely pleased.”

  Talea groaned. When the brothers were within a few yards, however, she put on a bright smile and curtsied along with Brenly. They bowed slightly in return. Jarle, the older of the two, acted as spokesmen, his eyes mostly on Brenly. “Good evening, ladies. Since it seems we are lucky enough to have caught you unoccupied, and another dance is starting...” he extended his hand to Brenly. “Would you grant me the pleasure, Miss Teylor?”

  Talea barely kept from groaning again. That was the clincher—if Jarle was merely being friendly, or just felt like a dance without any greater implications, he would have been casual, and called Brenly by her first name. Clearly, he was interested in more than a dance. Though who could blame him? Brenly was pretty, the perfect age for marriage, and had a gentle, graceful demeanor.