by DM Fike
“Thanks, buddy.” I smiled at him. “You just get some rest now. I’ve got other work to do.”
Because after you banish a vaettur, you need to seal its breach.
Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to find it. The jackal bat had created its little interdimensional portal of doom not far away in a pile of natural boulders. The mirror-thin disc of shimmering light couldn’t have been much bigger than a doggie door, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in spectacle. Iridescent colors I didn’t have names for swirled in a kaleidoscope, leading straight to Letum, where all vaetturs came from.
The breach wasn’t that sophisticated, but I still had to take every precaution. It took my very essence to thread it shut, and one false move could snap me in half. I sat in a samurai seiza position, both legs folded under my butt. As my legs went numb, I meditated on the flow of my inner pith. When my thoughts calmed down to a dull silence, I chanted an incantation Guntram had taught me. The words didn’t contain magic, but they helped me focus on the complex series of sigils I drew to complete my task. Then slowly, I pulled on the pith strands of the portal, connecting them to my own pithways. The two weaved around each other—dancing, stretching, seaming shut—until the portal blipped out of existence.
Winded, I didn’t even have time to catch my breath as a sharp sequence of quacks filled the air.
I flinched in surprise. No, a flock of angry ducks hadn’t descended on me. It was my phone’s ringtone. If it had sounded a few minutes earlier, it could have jolted me out of sealing the breach and killed me instantly. I made a mental note to always turn off my phone before sealing a breach as I answered.
“Hello?”
“Ina.” A warm familiar tenor caressed my ears. “Where are you?”
Vincent Garcia was a game warden with police officer responsibilities. We officially started dating a month ago, although our respective jobs made it difficult to coordinate time together. I’d actually been on my way to have an early dinner with him when I’d stumbled across Sova. I checked the time. I was an hour late.
“Sorry,” I replied. “I got sidetracked by a vaettur.”
Vincent sighed. “I bet you tell that to all the boys.”
“Don’t even get started with me.” I stretched my legs out, pinpricks of blood returning into my veins. “I distinctly remember two hours last week in Newport before you finally called to tell me you couldn’t make it because of work.”
“Yeah, well, the tip line was busy. Had to follow up on a mass deer poaching.”
I stifled a smirk. “That took you a week of overtime?”
“It’s still an ongoing investigation, actually. These things take time. Not all of us have nature wizard powers.” His tone deepened ever so slightly. “That’s reserved for you, beautiful.”
My cheeks flushed. I still wasn’t used to his open affection. And no one had ever called me beautiful before. “Sure,” I said lamely.
He ignored my awkwardness. “Speaking of which, we’re still on for dinner tonight, right? I can order for you if you’re running late. Just tell me what you want, and it’ll be all ready by the time you get here.”
I hesitated. “Actually…”
He groaned. “Don’t say you’re canceling.”
“It’s just that something about the vaettur seemed off.” I thought of how the jackal bat went from meek to ferocious in a heartbeat. “I probably need to do some research to make sure I actually took care of the thing.”
“Can’t it wait until after dessert?”
I raised an eyebrow at the phone. “You think I should just chance that this thing won’t come back worse than before? Like the cockatrice?”
Vincent had nearly been killed by that particular encounter. “Nope, you shouldn’t. It’s just that I hate how we keep missing each other lately.”
I let my frustration show just a little. “I know. It really sucks. Reschedule for tomorrow?”
“Sure. My shift ends before dinner. We’ll make it a priority, okay?”
“Okay.” My heart swelled, and I added before I could stop myself, “I miss you.”
“Miss you too.”
He hung up, leaving me with goosebumps.
This is nuts, I thought as I pocketed the phone back in the hoodie’s kangaroo pouch. Shepherds didn’t have romantic relationships for a reason. It was never going to work.
But I knew I’d pursue it anyway. I liked Vincent. Besides, I pretty much lived to bend the rules.
* * *
Before going straight back to the homestead’s library, though, I checked my lightning charm. Although I’d drained it of all pith, it remained intact. Good. The lightning charm didn’t tend to last many discharges, and I hated to ask Sipho to keep making them for me. This time, though, I should be able to refill it at an electric source. I just needed to find one.
As you might guess, lightning doesn’t occur in nature too often outside of a thunderstorm. The clear summer sky didn’t hint that would happen anytime soon. Even in the middle of nowhere, though, people wanted access to electricity. Just find a major thoroughfare, and chances are, you’ll run across an electric pole or two. I only had to follow a nearby forest service road a mile to meet up with the highway that ran between Florence and Eugene, Oregon. Just north of the shoulder, next to a picturesque covered bridge, I hit paydirt in the form of looping powerlines. They arched like strands of gossamer thread in front of the crisscrossing beams of the wooden structure, dangling just above the entryway.
“Bingo,” I said. I walked along the white picket fence that led over rusty orange reeds, the watershed for Wildcat Creek. I’d need to shimmy up a pole to access the pith, and I couldn’t just do that in view of anyone who happened to be driving by. I noticed a boat ramp with pickup trucks parked to the east and decided to avoid that direction. Instead, I jumped over the opposite side down fifteen feet, boots squelching in the muck. (So grateful I didn’t walk around in bare feet. Ugh.) I followed the powerline west, still in view of the highway for anyone looking carefully out the window. I passed several potential climbing spots, waiting until the trees crowded in so I could no longer see the telltale metal gleam of passing cars.
I stopped at my target, a slightly leaning beam that led up toward the electric thread I needed. I may be a decent climber, but with no visible handholds, I’d probably get splinters in my hands attempting this one straight on. There were too many intersecting branches over me to attempt another air jump. I chose instead to climb up a nearby sapling and reach for the line once I got close enough.
I’d made it up forty feet, almost there, when a rustling caught my attention. It sounded different than most animals, heavier with less grace. Still, it didn’t register as the clumsy bumbling I associated with most people. I froze, waiting to hear it again.
Nothing.
Deciding I’d just imagined it, I scurried up another ten feet, coming eye level with the powerline. Keeping one hand around the trunk, I extended my hand as far as I dared. It remained just maddeningly out of reach. I’d need a firm grip on the wire with one hand while the other held my lightning charm if I wanted to fill it up. It would take less than half a second to do the job, but it would send a jolt through every last inch of my pithways. Ideally, I’d have my arms and legs anchoring me somewhere so I wouldn’t go crashing down to the forest floor.
But I didn’t see any such option in my current predicament. I could either lean out over a branch and grab onto the powerline, or I’d have to find another pole.
I really should have taken the safe choice, but I’d had a rough day. I’d gotten waylaid by a random vaettur, missed my dinner date with Vincent, and now looked forward to a night studying at the library. The thought of adding in more time to search for the perfect power pole didn’t rank high on my list of priorities.
So, I just sprung forward and grabbed the powerline with my free hand.
Lightning pith immediately overtook all my pithways, sizzling everywhere: my toes, my lungs, my b
rain. My lightning charm filled almost instantly, and I released it from my grip before I damaged it. Mission accomplished, I attempted to do the same with the powerline.
My fingers refused to budge.
Lightning pith, like a toddler, wants to go wherever it pleases and doesn’t listen to direction well. Now that I’d provided a new pathway for it to explore, it didn’t feel like leaving me just yet. Gritting my teeth, I tugged the closed fist back toward me, willing my fingers to loosen.
“C’mon,” I said, the pith stiffening most of my arm muscles. “Let go!”
It took exactly one more violent jerk, and I got my wish. My fingers became disconnected from the electrical stream. My boot stepped backward into open air and I fell downward.
Falling from a decent height actually saved me. I had enough time to grab my air charm and send a gust of wind whipping up from the ground that cushioned my descent. That didn’t help all the skinny branches that cut my exposed skin, though. And while the resulting impact didn’t kill me, it did knock the wind out of my lungs.
“Ouch,” I squeaked. For the second time in an hour, I lay stunned like an idiot on the ground.
Something moved out of the corner of my eye. I turned toward it, grass getting stuck in my lashes. I had to half crouch to get a better view, and by that time, the shadow had crept up within a couple of yards of me.
He was a teenager, maybe high school aged by his six-foot height, but his face betrayed a boyish youth. A smear of acne marred his forehead underneath clumpy brown hair, soft stubble poking out around his cheeks. His rumpled dark T-shirt and shorts showed off gangly tanned limbs, scratched and bruised in several places. His bright green eyes shone in alarm, almost like an animal, unsure of how to proceed.
“Are you okay?” His voice broke when he spoke, and he winced.
“Yeah.” I decided to treat him casually, to put him at ease. I exaggerated testing both shoulder joints in wide circles to make sure they still worked. “Looks like just my pride took a fall. As usual.”
I rose very slowly to my feet, but he flinched nevertheless. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Jumpy much?”
His eyes darted from me up to the electric pole. “What were you doing up there?”
“Recharging my phone.” The truth would just blow his mind. “What’s your story? You camping around here or something?”
Something I said spooked the teen. He turned and fled on his heels, sprinting with amazing speed for a city kid.
“Hey!” I called after him. I jogged in his direction for a few seconds, but then had to stop and catch my breath. My side still stung from the fall. By the time I’d wheezed in enough air, the forest had grown still around me, not betraying which direction the teenager had taken off.
Whatever. I didn’t have time to chase random kids anyway. I oriented myself toward the nearest will o’ the wisp and limped away.
CHAPTER 3
I ARRIVED AT the homestead just as the sun set behind the mountains. Research on the jackal bat would have to wait. I first stopped off at the lodge, the large cabin building that housed the bedrooms and a modest kitchen. I rummaged in one cupboard and found a half-full can of huckleberry jam, etched with sigils to remain refrigerated. I spread the jam on some homemade bread. It tasted like heaven and melted away my hangriness. I then strode down to the hot spring, a corner of the property that housed a natural geothermal spot that Sipho had converted into two healing pools, one overlooking the other. Stripping down to nothing, I soaked up to my collarbone in the almost scalding water, my body absorbing the four elements directly into my pithways. By the time I got out, all the scrapes and bumps of the day had healed.
Hooray for magic.
I took one last detour to check on Sipho herself, the forger that ran the homestead. She lived in a cabin that served double duty as her workshop. Smoke curling upward into the clear sky indicated she was home. I only had to push open the bottom half of her divided door to enter her cozy domain.
Shepherds may be protectors of the forest, but we’d be lost without the forgers. They not only craft the charms we wear to protect ourselves but create any number of tools and weapons we might need for specific purposes. They also maintain the homestead, a place where we can rest, recharge, and practice our magic away from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. Their talents play an outsized role in our survival.
Sipho bent over her longest workbench, a hoe, shovel, and scythe all laid in perfect parallel rows in front of her. Her hair had been woven into black braids and then whipped up into a perfect bun, the same rounded shape as her massive biceps. She wore her monocle magnifying glass while hunched over them. Sweat beaded her dark brow, and she wasn’t wearing headphones. Nur, the lighter coated male mountain lion, stood at attention like a sentry, not his normal lounging pose. What Sipho was working on must have required her strict concentration.
I turned, not meaning to interrupt, but Sipho noticed me. She straightened, wiping the frown from her face.
“Good evening, Ina,” she called.
I took a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Sipho motioned me closer. “You’re not interrupting anything. I’m just experimenting on these tools, transferring pith into them.” She could sense pith in objects and move them around, imbuing them into ordinary objects to make them stronger.
“How are things going?” I asked.
Sipho massaged her neck, her arms looking like she’d sprouted butterfly wings. “You know how it gets this time of year. There’s never enough time in the day. As I’ve worked the fields, I’ve wondered if there’s a way I could enhance my tools. Make the blades a little sharper, lighten the weight slightly. Any small improvement would accumulate into a tremendous conservation of effort over time.”
Sipho maintained the gardens spread throughout the homestead. Late summer meant harvest time for a lot of fruits and vegetables, a last planting season for others. Poor Sipho looked like she’d run a marathon and still had a hundred miles to go. A pang of guilt washed over me. I’d been cranky about skipping one meal, but then I’d come back to the homestead to pamper myself.
“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, hoping some other shepherds might spare some time to help out.
Sipho shrugged. “No one has stayed at the homestead longer than a day or two. They’ve all got their own territories to cover.”
She wasn’t lying. Most shepherds watched over a region where their elemental inclinations matched the terrain. Zibel the earth shepherd stayed mostly near the dunes and forests near the coast. Baot the water shepherd practically lived in the Pacific Ocean itself. Both Euchloe and Azar gravitated toward the southern border of the Talol Wilds.
I’m not sure where that left me, though. There was no set rule that I had to choose a territory as my own, and truthfully, I didn’t have much of a preference. I would have liked to mimic Guntram, who often got tasked with odd jobs all over the Talol Wilds, but that meant the higher-ranking shepherds would have to give me orders. So far, nothing had come my way. I had kind of hoped the Oracle, the master shepherd of the Talol Wilds who oversaw the rest of us, might send me one of her kidama blue jays with a written note attached for a mission. I’d seen it happen to other shepherds enough times.
But so far, nada. Until the jackal bat, I’d mostly been just reinforcing defensive sigils around the Siuslaw forest. It was necessary work, but about as fun as filing paperwork at a government job.
I pushed away the restlessness I felt. Being a full-fledged shepherd meant figuring stuff out on my own. I went where I was needed, and right now, Sipho seemed overworked. I had the free time to step in.
“I could lend you a hand tomorrow.”
Relief flooded Sipho’s eyes. “That would be wonderful. If you could help out in the orchard, it would free up my time for the vegetable garden.”
I let Sipho talk a little while longer as she explained the intricacies of her tool sigils. Nur relaxed, plodding over for a vigorous
pet on the head. He seemed to thank me for putting Sipho back in a good mood. I was glad to help. Sipho was one of the few followers of Nasci who had always believed in me. She deserved any support I could give.
All sunlight had faded by the time I left Sipho’s forge. I paused for a moment to stare up at the fluffy streak of pinks and purples cutting a line across the night sky. It wasn’t clouds but streaks of the Milky Way. Most people (myself included until I became a shepherd) didn’t realize you could see it with the naked eye if you went far enough away from light pollution. I inhaled deeply, as if I could take a breath of space itself.
But I didn’t have all night to stargaze. I needed to follow up on some jackal bat reading.
All the buildings on the homestead were plain wooden buildings, but the library stood out as the most mundane, comprised of plank walls with tiny windows so light wouldn’t fade the contents within. The sturdy wooden door had sigils etched into the frame that required anyone passing through to release a combination of pith. They worked as a lock in the unlikely event that someone outside of Nasci’s influence managed to get past the homestead’s robust defenses and invisible camouflage.
The library’s front door was open, dim lantern light glowing from within.
I paused. I hadn’t noticed signs of anyone else around the homestead, and Sipho hadn’t mentioned anyone. I didn’t know who to expect.
So, of course, it had to be Darby.
The other freshly minted Talol Wilds shepherd sat poised with a book in hand at an old table as if modeling for a photo shoot. Despite the heat of the season, she wore a fur-lined hooded cloak, a hand-me-down from her augur Tabitha. Ringlets of platinum-colored hair framed her slender cheeks, accentuating emerald green eyes that flicked up from the pages to glare at me.
“Oh.” Darby snapped the book shut and set it down. “It’s you.”
I stiffened, but managed a cheerful, “Heya, Darbs.” We had some unfortunate history between us. Darby blamed me for Tabitha’s death. I’d managed to avoid Darby for the most part since, except for one unfortunate confrontation where Darby had nearly killed me in front of a rural convenience store. My fingers instinctively reached for my lightning charm, but I managed to stop myself.
