Findel's Embrace

A lamp flickered inside the small shrine. Outside the door, sentinels stood to ensure no one came near. There were no windows, and the door was latched and barred from within. The smells of blood and illness filled the space, and Jareen wished secrecy did not come before ventilation.

Three more afflicted slept in hammocks within. They had come all the way from the Selniel enclave on the eastern coast. Their journey had been long, and the Malady was advanced, infecting their lungs. It must have taken great force of will to make it the last few days. Foragers from the little enclave had found them and carried them the remaining miles. They were the most advanced cases that Jareen had tried to cure. She had not lost many, but these concerned her, and after giving of her blood she remained with them as they slept off the heavy doses of tincture. Their breathing was easier than it had been, but she had seen things change rapidly in the later stages of the affliction.

In addition to watching their recovery, staying within the shrine gave Jareen longer to recover. No one bothered her there. The enclave still struggled to grow and forage enough food in the dying Mingling, and the additional blood she had given left her fatigued. She napped now and then in a spare hammock. Thankfully, the Malady was worse in the enclaves near the Mingling. Few afflicted needed to attempt such a long journey.

Someone knocked on the door. Jareen sat up, her heart fluttering. Who would knock? It was alright. She had hidden her tools again, and the afflicted slept. She slipped from the hammock and approached the door.

"Who disturbs?" she whispered.

"My great apologies, Daughter of Vah," a vien voice said. "The Servant of Vah commanded me to knock. I did not wish to."

"Why did he command you?"

"He said to tell you that Faro is here."

Jareen scraped her knuckles trying to slide the bar free and yank the latch away. As she threw open the door, the sentinel bowed with a mixture of fear and surprise.

"Where?" Jareen demanded. Her heart raced.

She didn't need the answer. She saw him standing on the northern edge of the clearing with Coir and a few sentinels. There were others with him, looking travel-weary. Some still held the poles of litters that carried vien and vienu on their backs. Some of those on their feet looked afflicted as well, but Jareen did not have eyes for them. Coir pointed as she emerged, and Faro turned to look at her.

Jareen had not run in a long time, but she ran, ignoring the complaints of her body. She had not gone far when Faro reached her. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. His familiar smell filled her nostrils. He was so tall and strong. Somehow, in his absence, she had remembered him often as a child.

He set her down and extended his arms, his hands on her shoulders. Jareen looked at his face and saw the fatigue there, and something more, a look she had not seen in him before, a look she had hoped to keep from him for as long as she could. He had suffered.

"Are you well?" she asked. She took his hands in her own and flipped them over, looking for sign of the Malady, but she saw only the Change in streaks of hardened yellow up to his wrists and violet and viridian calcifications on his fingertips.

"I am well," Faro said. He smiled, but there was effort in that smile. She looked past him to those in his company. Most stood and stared—at her, mostly. She did not see who she feared.

"Where is Vireel?"

Faro's smile faded.

"She is gone."

Jareen could see the meaning in his face. How many times had she said the same to families in Nosh with the same tones and import? Yet Vireel was no human Departing, no expected death. There was much to ask.

"Who are these you have brought?"

"They are the afflicted of the enclave of Meln, as well as some others we found along the way."

"How many afflicted?"

"Seventeen, and many members of their Trees."

Jareen sighed, looking at the weary and worn travelers. Seventeen afflicted. How much could she share?

"Are you alright mother?" Faro asked. As she looked at the newcomers, he looked beyond her at the settlement. Coir approached, saving her from a response.

"Liethni," the man called in his ill-tuned Vienwé. "Order the afflicted by worst affected to least, and see to the needs of the others as best you can." He placed a hand on Faro's shoulder. He was beaming and spoke next in Noshian.

"Come, lad. Let us talk in private while the others get things arranged. There is much to say."

Keeping his hand on Faro's shoulder, Coir steered towards Jareen's house.

"I am hungry," Faro said. "The fare from Meln we finished yesterday, and little edible grows in the Mingling, now."

"Much has died through the winter," Jareen said. "I will ask them to bring what little we have. I wish I could feast you."

"Even the tracks of beasts were few," Faro said. "Nothing came close to us. I fear how the quthli might fare."

"Many of the beasts froze, but the quthli will survive," Coir said. "That is what they do."

"You have little food?" Faro asked as they passed a garden. Little bean and radish sprouts emerged in oval rows.

"Little, for some time," Jareen said.

Faro raised his hand, and the plants burst upward, flowering and fruiting in moments. The radishes grew, bolted, and dropped their seeds. New plants sprouted and spread in moments, the vegetables growing to almost absurd sizes. Faro lowered his hand.

"Faro!" Jareen said. "Would you bring the Change for a single meal?"

Faro smiled.

"This is nothing, mother. I could feed this settlement for a year with little Change. Come, let us gather a meal."

Faro plucked a beanpod, popping it into his mouth. It snapped between his teeth and crunched as he chewed. As he bent down, Jareen saw his back for the first time. Nestled between two bags he carried was a short wooden haft, inlayed with silver. A sheath covered the end. She knew it for a weapon. He'd always taken to such things, with no encouragement from her. Faro filled his palms with beans.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Here," Jareen said. There was a bucket nearby that they used for watering. She took and held it while Faro filled it with beans and a few massive radishes. Coir watched, looking less than delighted for the first time since Faro had arrived.

"Beans are fabulous with pork," he said.

Faro looked around.

"Are there no quthli here?"

"No," Coir said, his shoulders sagging.

Faro put his arm around the old man.

"Come," he said. "It won't be much, but at least I can cook these for you."

Alone in Jareen's house, Faro somehow cooked the beans and the great radishes, boiling water with his outstretched hand. Jareen hated to see him use the Current, hated the marks on his skin, but she would not complain. It was hard to keep from crying, just to see him again.

They were all hungry, and while they ate the simple fare, they spoke, not waiting to finish chewing.

"They told me you can cure the Malady," Faro said.

Jareen opened her mouth but hesitated in answer. Faro looked at Coir, but Coir raised an eyebrow and looked back at Jareen.

Why did she hesitate? It was Faro. But she had never shared her mind with him entirely. She had always held much back. He was so young—just a child still, though he no longer looked it. Why should she burden him?

Yet his face told her he was already burdened. She hardly recognized the eyes that looked at her. They were so different from the eyes of the young vien she had last seen.

"Jareen," Coir said, admonishment in his tone.

"It is true," she said. "I have discovered its secret."

"How?"

"Did Vireel tell you how the Malady came to be?"

"No. I do not think we spoke of it."

"It was her," Jareen said. "She did something to a fungus that grows in the hair of the quthli. She changed it somehow with the Current."

"What?" Faro said, his brow furrowing. "How do you know this?"

"She is not a safe vienu," Jareen said, holding back the words she wanted to use. "She is not good."

Faro did not respond for a time, his eyes cast down.

"Was," he said at last. "And I know." His face was hard as he said it, his tone flat.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You have not told me of the cure," Faro answered.

"And you have not told me what happened!"

"It's her blood," Coir interjected. "Her blood can cure it, given directly into the veins of the afflicted."

"Coir!" Jareen said. "I did not give you leave."

"I didn't need leave. It is my knowledge too. Here—" Coir motioned to the house "—I am not playing the role of your servant."

Jareen opened her mouth, but she found no words.

"It weakens her," Coir continued, speaking to Faro. "You can see it in her face. She has only so much blood, and she does not eat and drink enough. Food has been short, and she does not take more than an equal share. With all these you have brought. . ."

"I will grow food," Faro said, waving the concern away with a hand.

"No," Jareen said. "I don't want you using the Current."

Faro squinted.

"My mother," he said. "I will take care of you."

"You should heed your mother!"

"I see that even an Insensitive seeks the power of the Synod," Faro snapped.

Jareen took a sharp breath and flinched. He had never spoken to her like that before. Even Coir raised both eyebrows. Faro flushed, and he touched his head, closing his eyes.

"It has been a long journey," Coir said. He lifted a hand as if he would lay it on Faro's shoulder, but he didn't. He closed his fingers and lowered his arm again.

"Yes," Faro said. He opened his eyes and looked at Jareen. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had not been sleeping. "I am sorry for my words, mother. I mean no disrespect, but I will not be controlled. I would hope for your understanding above all."

"I only seek to protect you."

"I am not here to be protected." Faro looked down at the bags he had set near his feet. His ears perked. "Wait," he said in a lighter tone. "There is something I wish to show you." He lifted one of the bags onto his lap. Loosening a string at the top, he drew the cloth down, revealing an object of metal and what looked like ornately carved bone, strings glinting in the light of the window. It was like no harp Jareen had ever seen.

Faro's extended his fingers and touched the strings gently. After a breath, he drew forth a short flight of notes that ended nearly as soon as it began. The vibrations filled the little house.

"I have learned music," he said.

Jareen wept. She wept with her whole past and her whole heart.

It took a time for his mother to compose herself. She was simply overwhelmed with joy and relief at his return, she assured him. Coir had fallen unusually silent. Neither met his gaze.

More than anything else, he had hoped to share the music with them, beauty that had come from the midst of all the foul, but their countenances had fallen, and his mother appeared pained. He did not know why, but the joy had turned to something else.

"I can play for you," Faro offered, trying to recapture the moment.

"Maybe another time," she said. "You have not told me what has happened. I would hear your voice, instead."

So he put the harp away, trying to ignore the weight that pressed against him ever since he had entered the Mingling. The music helped, and he played for hours while the others rested on the journey. Sleep was difficult. Even in his dreams he had to resist. The further into the Mingling they came, the more the Nethec Current flowed around them.

They saw him, and he saw them.

And it.

It was unrelenting. So far, he could resist.

He told his mother and Coir what he could. Faro did not lie. It was just that he had imagined their meeting so differently—imagined how he would tell her all about the dhar, about everything that had transpired. Yet when it came to it, he couldn't. He could not describe the battle at the glade, the slaughter of the Nethec prisoners, of Vireel's temptation or her death. He could barely describe the friendship of the dhar. It was as if he had lived a life that he couldn't share, no matter how he tried. He had lived it alone.

Coir watched and listened, astute even with his drooping eyelids. His mother hung on his every word, pressing for more. Faro often lapsed into silence.

"But how did she die?" she asked. Faro sighed.

"She attacked me." He shook his head. He would not say more.

"You killed her?" His mother stared at him in shock. Was it confusion that he could overcome Vireel's power, or that he could kill? He still remembered the night the Nethec company had come, and he had first slain in the confusion of the Mingling. Had his mother ever killed? If she had, she had never said so. Certainly, she was no stranger to death. There was a difference, though.

"I am weary," he said.

He did not actually want to sleep. There was little comfort in sleep. He wanted the talking to stop. He realized now that there were so many things he did not truly wish to say.

"You must rest. I will have them build another room," Jareen said, pointing to the side of the house.

"No," Faro answered. "I cannot stay long."

"What? Why not?"

"They know I'm here."

"Who?"

"The Synod."

"Then we will go into Isecan," Jareen said. "We will move. They say there are empty places there. Or we will go across the sea. We need not stay anywhere near them."

"We will speak of it in the morning," Coir said. "The lad is tired."

Faro smiled. The old human's eyes had been closed as much as open for the past while.

"You may sleep here." She pushed off against her thighs as she rose. "I must see to the afflicted, anyway."

"You look like you need rest as well," Faro said. "How much blood do you give them?"

"You mustn't speak of it," Jareen said. "Not even among ourselves. No one can know."

Faro nodded. The danger was obvious. What concerned him was how poorly she looked. She had lost weight and her skin sagged. He would have thought more years had passed than one.

"I will have the council set a double guard tonight," Coir said. "How long has the Synod known of your coming?"

"Less than two days. I should have expected it. I did expect it. But. . ." He wanted to find his mother and Coir. It was foolish to lead the Synod to them, but it was foolish for them to stay in the Mingling. He would make sure they left.

"They say that the Synod's companies encamp on the far side of Miret, now," Coir said. "There are sentries watching the paths. Sleep for tonight."

Faro forced a smile. His mother stepped forward and hugged him. Coir patted his arm. A few moments later, they left Faro alone, but not alone.