Findel's Embrace

Music flowed from the harp as Faro's fingertips moved across the brass strings. He had played through the night, sometimes listening to silence only to pick up a new thread of melody. He drifted on the borders of dream even as he played, opening his eyes now and then to see the moon shining above the reflective sea. At first, he had played his anger, then his fear and worry, and at last, exhausted, he just played—played the wind, the distant sound of the surf, the swaying and faint creaks of the norol tree and the timbers of the house.

As he played, he saw the flow of the Current. With his eyes closed, his mind drifting upon the music, he felt more than he thought. He felt the edges of the embrace, the Current directed by the ancients of the enclave. He did not grasp the Current as he normally would to see such things. Instead, he drifted upon the music, the vibrations opening him up to see and not to wield. Without thinking about it, without trying to grasp it, the melody of the harp carried him into the Current. The music flowed along with it, over him and around him and through him.

When she arrived at the edge of the enclave's embrace, he saw her like a flash of violet light. She stopped, grasping the flow of the Current and parting the cascading embrace as if it was her own. She peered within, and he knew she was looking for him.

Faro jerked forward with an involuntary yell into the night. He nearly dropped the harp. All at once, he was back with the fragrant sea wind, the easy sway of the house above the hillside. He was sweating, though the air was cool. Someone was coming up the stair fast; he heard the footfalls. He looked for anything to defend himself with, but the house was empty apart from the furniture. He set the harp down on its discarded bag and lifted the chair. The hatch opened. It was a vien peering within.

"What is the meaning of your outcry?" the vien asked.

"There is danger," he said. He'd been startled out of his trance into a state of bewilderment, but his awareness was returning.

"What danger?"

Faro set the chair down, trying to catch his breath. He'd known he might see Vireel again, but he hadn't expected to feel so frightened. Now that he was alert, his nerves steadied. No doubt, she already knew where he was. Had she come with quthli? Coir had told him how Vireel kidnapped them from Yellan, drugging them and carrying them back to her glade.

"Do you know of the enchantress Vireel?" he asked the vien.

Though it was dim, Faro had his back to the moonlight, and he saw the vien's brow furrow.

"What of her?"

"She is here, at the border of the enclave. She is looking for me."

The vien stared at Faro for a moment.

"Remain here," he said, and closed the hatch. Faro heard his light steps retreating down the stair. Faro walked to the hatch, looking for some way to secure it, but there was nothing heavy enough in the house. There were brackets for sliding a plank across the top, but the plank was missing. He could stand on the hatch, but that would only slow the quthli. If they came, he would need to use the Current to defend himself.

A high note blew from the base of the tree, light and clear in the night. It was answered by others—one down by the harbor, another atop the hill, and one to the west. Surely, Vireel would not risk an open incursion into a roused enclave. He did not want to face her. Whether she would harm him outright, he did not know, but he could not trust her. At the least, she would seek to control him. The sight of her that night returned to his mind. He saw again the curves of her form, and he shook his head as if to shake out the thoughts.

With surprising speed, the vien returned, this time with others. The sentinel lifted the hatch and cautiously raised his head. Faro stood well away from the opening.

"Come with us," the sentinel said.

Faro hurried to enclose the harp in its bag, not knowing if he would return to the house or not. Even in danger, he would not leave the instrument behind. Faro checked below before he lowered himself onto the steps. There were five sentinels on the stairway. The sentinels each carried bows with nocked arrows, as well as swords and knives at their sides. They led Faro down to the foot of the stair.

"Where are we going?" Faro whispered. He wasn't sure if they needed to remain quiet, but the sentinels had not made a sound. The first grey hints of dawn were spreading in the sky to the east. The sentinel pointed up the path, the same way Faro had been taken to see the ancients. In silence they ascended the hill again, two vien ahead of Faro and three behind. Partway there, Faro saw other armed vien rushing along another path leading west toward the edge of the enclave.

As they emerged onto the open greensward, Faro saw a few of the ancients standing near the misshapen malir in the center of the clearing. At the border of the sward, more sentinels crouched with bows ready behind standing stones and tree trunks. The vienu who had spoken to him the day before was there. She'd held his spear when last he'd seen her, but now her hands were empty.

"Stranger," she said. "Why have you stirred us?" Even as she spoke, another ancient arrived, accompanied by a sentinel.

"Vireel the enchantress is at the border of the enclave," Faro said.

"How do you know this?"

"I have seen her in the Current."

"We have not, and we uphold this embrace."

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Yet another ancient emerged from the trees. It appeared that half of those assembled the previous day had arrived. He didn't respond to the eldress' challenge, yet in the west another high note sounded, two stacatto pitches high and low. The vienu glanced toward them, then back to Faro, her eyes narrowing. Faro looked to the east instead, gauging the coming of dawn. For some reason, he preferred it to be day with Vireel near, and maybe her quthli with her.

Silent minutes elapsed, and the assembly of the elders grew until it appeared all were present as before, standing in loose array before Faro and the cadre of sentinels. He still cradled his harp in his arms, but he wished he had his spear. Two sentinels sprinted into the sward from the west, their feet silent on the grass. They bowed before the elders, their backs to Faro. He couldn't quite make out their words, but it was clear from the hasty glances of the elders that the news was distressing.

The vienu gave some low command, and the sentinels sprinted back west.

"She is here," the eldress said to Faro. "She has not entered our embrace, but she made herself known to the sentinels. How were you able to see her?"

"How many are with her?" Faro asked, ignoring the question. He had already told her.

"Merely three quthli."

"Do not trust her."

"You do not need to warn us of her," the eldress said, "but why are you so afraid?"

Again, Faro fell silent. Annoyance contorted the vienu's already distorted face.

"You are troublesome," she said. "And you carry heavy secrets. The enchantress has asked for you."

"Do not give me to her."

"You were not eager to remain with us yesterday."

Faro had no appetite for this banter. He held his tongue. When the vienu saw he would not respond, she continued:

"The enchantress has demanded we turn you over to her. If we do not, she threatens to make war upon the enclave."

"And are you so weak that you fear one enchantress?" Faro asked. It was clear they were worried, but surely they had some pride.

"We could defeat her," another ancient—a vien—said. "She is not so strong as to face all of us, our sentinels, and quthli."

Faro hoped the elders were wise enough to keep their quthli far from Vireel. She had made an art of turning the minds of quthli to betray their masters. Such methods had long given her access to enclaves and supplies.

"Good," Faro said, pretending to be confident. "Then do not let yourself be threatened."

"Our duty is first to our own. We could defeat her, but it could cost us dearly," another ancient said.

"It is much more expedient to give you over," the vienu added.

"So you will show yourself weak?" Faro asked. "Is that the pride of Meln?"

"Should we sacrifice ourselves and our people for the sake of a lying stranger? Would such pride not be weakness? She is a meddler and a danger, but she has promised no vendetta with us if we give you over."

Even the sentinels had turned to watch the exchange from the edges of the sward. His escorts had drawn in close, listening to every word.

"Such is the hospitality of Meln," Faro replied.

"Deliver him to the enchantress," the vienu snapped. "Unless he wishes to speak some truth that might change our minds."

Faro couldn't decide. Telling them who he was might be worse for him than going to Vireel; they could kill him out of a misguided attempt to hurt the Nethec. Nor did he think he could invent a lie they would believe. The vienu motioned to the sentinels, and one placed his hand on Faro's shoulder. There was no good choice. He would not let Vireel make him a slave. What choice did he have?

"Do you wish to be free of her?"

"We are done," the vienu said.

"If you take me to her, I will fight her, myself."

"And you will lose."

"There is much about me you do not know."

"We won't learn it when she kills you. You clearly believe telling us the truth is more dangerous than she. That makes you a threat. You seek the Daughter of Vah and her human. Vireel stole those two from the custody of Yellan decades ago. The Daughter of Vah was with child. Now, Vireel seeks you. We do not know her intent, but we know she hates the Nethec most of all. We do not wish her anger."

Faro felt a thrill of fear run through his frame. Surely they suspected. He tried to sound sure.

"You are afraid of her. But give me my spear and I will fight her."

"You cannot kill the enchantress with weapons of metal."

"Yet I will face her with it."

"We will not give this treasure to be carried away to her."

"We are not in league."

"Dead or alive, you would deliver it to her."

"What would you risk to rid yourself of her meddling forever? Do you so lust after the works of the dhar that you would forego such a boon to your people?"

"We can give you another weapon."

"You have held it. You know the spear is more than a blade. If you have courage, and if the ancients of Meln are more than slaves to fear, come and watch. If I fall, she may be weakened, and you can finish her yourself."

The assembled ancients did not respond. Faro could sense them striving amongst themselves, a wordless vying in the Current. It appeared that none wished to break the silence.

Faro could have tried to perceive their struggle, but he feared that the attempt might turn them against him even more. Instead, he turned and looked toward the sea, feeling the breeze rushing up the hillside. The morning light had turned the nearer water a grey-green, but near the horizon the whitecaps flared with the orange of sunrise. If he had been alone, he would have drawn the harp out and played the melody of that morning. He tried to focus all his attention upon the breeze, the smell of the sea, the light playing on the distant waves, the motion of the trees on the hillside, the sound of the leaves, and the morning coos of the doves. These things kept down the panic that fought to rise in his chest. Vireel was close, and one way or another, he must face her.

Through his whole life, she had always been there. Not physically—plenty of times she would leave the glade with her quthli with no explanation of her comings and goings—but they lived under her embrace, and when she was there physically, she often sat and listened as he spoke with his mother in the evenings, or when his mother sang him her songs. He knew Vireel and his mother often spoke together, but they said little to each other in front of him. Every so often, Vireel would find Faro alone in the orchard and embark upon long tales of Isecan's purpose to free his people and of the subsequent war with the Nethec. He had basked in such stories and in those moments of attention. Now, he knew she was preparing him for the role she wished him to play.

"Stranger," the vienu called. Faro turned, and saw that one of the sentinels had come, carrying the spear and Faro's other bag of dhar gifts.

"Do you swear you will seek to kill her?"

"I will try."

"And if you survive, you will seek the Daughter of Vah?"

"I will."

"If you slay the enchantress, you will be free, but for one thing."

Faro raised his eyebrow and waited.

"There are those among us who are afflicted." The vienu paused. "Those among our own trees. They are expelled from the enclave, but they are near. It is far to the Mingling and to the Daughter of Vah, and far from safe. You will guide them to her. This is our condition."

Faro tried to hide his repulsion at the idea. His mother had never spoken of the Malady, but Coir had told him horrifying tales. It was contagious, and he did not want to be anywhere near it. Was his mother once again caring for the afflicted?

"Why do they seek the Daughter of Vah?"

"She wields the blessing of Vah, and healing for the afflicted is in her hands."

Healing? Faro frowned.

"And you know where she is?"

"We do."

"Then I will do this thing."

"So be it," the vienu said.