Findel's Embrace

"How is it so cold?" Jareen asked. "The summer just started."

Coir looked at the scudding clouds blowing southward.

"Summers are short this far north," Coir said. "It is early autumn at most. The weather rolls down from the cold seas."

Jareen ran her hands over her face. The sun was setting, and she crouched in the middle of the makeshift camp. It had been over three weeks since they'd left their camp near the Meadow. They'd been forced to forage as they hiked, but it was more scrounging than foraging. Most of the trees and plants were dead, and they dug for half-rotten yucca roots and ate bitter grapes that stained anything they touched. If it weren't for those of the Canaen willing to grasp the Current for their aid, they would be in dire condition, but Jareen insisted they rely on them as a last resort.

At first, only a few had decided not to accompany Jareen, but more had left since, heading for the enclaves in small groups. Jareen hoped they made it safely. Thankfully, few beasts had harassed their journey. In the second week, some kind of winged creature circled high above through the day, and growing bolder swooped lower and lower until a sentinel wounded it with an arrow. The beast had retreated, shrieking as it flew. Another time, they thought they had heard the familiar grunts of quthli in the half-dead jungle. Coir had tried to call out to them in their language, but they did not answer nor show themselves.

"How far do you think we have to go?" Jareen asked.

Coir shrugged.

"It is difficult to judge the distance."

It was also difficult to keep to any direction with faithfulness along the twisting trails of the Mingling. Many of the plants and trees may have died, but their husks remained, choked thickets of leafless thorns and brambles. Most of the straight paths ran east to west, and the further north they travelled, the thinner and more meandering the trails had become. From the beginning, they had carved marks onto trees, messages to guide any afflicted who might arrive at the old camp in search of the Daughter of Vah. Such a trail would now be hopelessly confused, but they continued the practice for their own good—to know when they had circled back on their own path by accident.

"You would be warmer with fires," Coir said.

"You know we will not keep fires."

"I would be warmer."

The human was wrapped in two robes and a walking cloak, and still he looked chilly. There was not enough skin on his bones. Jareen considered asking one of the sentinels to hunt meat for him, but she knew they would be repulsed by the idea. She couldn't do it herself. Maybe if she tried to persuade them as the Daughter of Vah, for the Servant of Vah. . .

She had better not. Many in the group were already disgruntled, feeling as if they were wandering aimlessly—which they were. Yet without the others, Jareen and Coir would be prey to any of the beasts that lingered in the Mingling. She did not relish the thought of being torn to pieces.

She did not ask the Canaen to grasp the Current for warmth each time they camped. She hated to ask them to bring the Change on themselves. There were one hundred and seventy-one of them left at last count, and so far the Canaen had rotated carrying Coir's seat without complaint. It took four of them to carry it at a time. Jareen had tried to help, but she could not lift it. Even more humiliating, she had found out that some of the council had taken it upon themselves to always walk near her in case she stumbled. Liethni often insisted they stop the day's journey sooner than the light would allow, and Jareen knew it was out of consideration for herself and Coir.

"How long can we search?" Jareen asked. "If the snows come again, we must risk returning to an enclave."

"We can only trust that Vah told the truth," Coir answered, "that those who seek can yet find Vah'tane."

Was Jareen seeking it? If it was some test of her faith, then it was likely she did not have enough. Coir certainly did. What if she was holding him back? But he couldn't go alone. She felt a pang of anger at Vah, and then she felt foolish for being angry at someone who had passed from the world millenia before, if he ever lived at all. . .

It was just that kind of doubt that would keep her from finding it. She shook her head to clear her mind.

"We can't search in the snow, and you know it," Jareen said.

"Then the Inevien either raise an embrace or we go to Elth until Spring."

"If they'll have us."

"I think the real difficulty would be leaving again."

Jareen tilted her head to the side. Someone approached through the woods, fast enough that they could not conceal the noise. Coir did not hear it, but it would have taken something much louder to reach his old ears. A nearby sentinel crouched lower. It was clear from the pattern of footfalls that it was a Vien. One of their own scouts burst into the little clearing.

"What is it, Herel?" Selu asked, rushing over.

"We are being followed," Herel said.

"By who?"

"Children of the Nethec."

"A company? How far?"

Jareen's stomach sank. If it was a company of the Nethec, then they were beyond hope, now. They would have to scatter and hope for the best.

Liethni hurried over to the commotion.

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"Not a company," Herel said. "They are vien and vienu and children, many of them afflicted. Most are unarmed."

"What?"

Jareen rose from her crouch. Afflicted from the Nethec?

"Faro," Coir said.

Jareen looked at him.

"What about Faro?"

"This is his doing. He sent those prisoners back with a message to bring them here, to seek Vah'tane and be healed."

"Mercy upon us," Jareen whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Coir shrugged.

"It is hard enough to make decisions for the people who are with us, let alone for those who might never come."

"You should have told me." She would have been angrier if she wasn't also trying to listen to Liethni and the others interrogate Herel. The sentinel had just told them that the Nethec folk had camped four miles behind them.

"How many afflicted among them?" Jareen interrupted.

"Perhaps ten or fifteen, from what I saw," Herel answered. "Thirty or forty souls altogether."

She had more than enough tincture. The Canaen had grown the herbs she needed back in their little enclave near the Meadow. She had taken the time through last winter to put up a great store. Yet she only had so much blood, and she had nowhere private to perform her cure.

"We should continue through the night and put as much distance between us as we can," Liethni said.

"Or we set up an ambush," Oreann said.

"For vienu and children!" Jareen rounded on Oreann.

"We could kill their vien, at least. It would be the safest thing to do."

"They are seeking Vah'tane and a cure for the Malady."

"Do we know this?" Liethni asked.

"It would be easy to find out." Coir shuffled over with his cane as he spoke. "Send sentinels and say that you serve the Daughter of Vah. Bring their leaders to us for interview."

"It would be safer to flee," Selu said.

"They are sick and in need, just as you and yours were when you came to me. Vah took followers from both Findel and Isecan." Jareen looked around, defying anyone to argue. "Do what Coir suggested. Herel. Lead the sentinels to their camp. Do not harm them. Make it clear you serve Vah."

Herel bowed, placing a hand on his chest. Oreann looked annoyed but he did not argue. Liethni and Selu appeared more worried than angered. With no more argument, the sentinels were soon away, Selu with them. Liethni went off to ensure Mleni and Telu were hidden away.

"You cannot trust anything from the Nethec," Oreann whispered to Jareen. "The Findelvien are slaves in their minds."

"I do not think these ones are." Jareen remembered what Coir had told her about those seeking Vah'tane, and if Faro had sent them, then she felt responsible.

Oreann squinted hard at Jareen, as if considering his next action. Jareen did not let him finish thinking. The vien had served on the council since the beginning. He had come with Liethni. He was the first one that Jareen had cured. She could see the struggle of loyalty.

"You do not have to be here, Oreann. You are free to go to the enclave. It would be no transgression."

The hardness melted from Oreann's face. He squinted.

"I do not mean to disrespect you, Daughter of Vah," he said.

"I know," she answered. She hadn't meant to hurt him, either. "But I will not join the war our people have fought for ages."

It was odd, the more she learned about Vah, the more she came to respect him. He hadn't joined the war. He hadn't chosen a side. Vah had walked the Third Way, and left hints behind for those who might follow. Maybe it wasn't true, but it was a better story than any other, and it was not the kind of story either the Findelvien or the Canaen were likely to invent on their own.

"Forel has born the brunt of the war for centuries," Oreann said. He looked into the woods in the direction of the approaching Findelvien and drew a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. "I will stand by, in case of danger."

"Thank you, Oreann," Jareen said.

Coir and Jareen sat on a fallen moss-covered log and waited. A deep night fell, and the Mingling was quiet. It had grown even quieter the further north they'd come, and more of the trees were dead. She had never known a place so quiet, except maybe her dormitory chamber in Nosh. Certainly the woods of Findeluvié were never silent. The birds sang and more often than not, so did the Vien, themselves. Likewise, the streets of Nosh were rarely completely still, especially not in the slums near the harbor. The Mingling around Vireel's glade had never quieted. This stillness felt unnatural, even though she knew it likely was natural.

"Look." Coir pointed to the sky. The green lights of the Dancers played there amid the stars, shifting and shimmering, the edges tinted red. She had not seen them since the winter. Despite their beauty, she felt a foreboding.

Jareen heard the approach of the returning sentinels and the Nethec folk. In such quiet, it would be hard to hide their arrival, though a single vien might sneak in the Mingling. She stood.

"They're here," she said for Coir's sake. Coir rocked to his feet and they walked together to the center of the camp. Oreann and Liethni joined them, as did the handful of remaining members of the council who hadn't gone with the sentinels.

They emerged from the trees, Herel in the lead. Behind him walked three figures without weapons. The starlight was bright enough, and Jareen could see the light play upon silk. It gave her a sudden pang of longing for a home that no longer existed for her. Two of them were vien and one a vienu, her hair falling before her shoulders to her waist. Jareen saw them look to her at once. One thing Jareen could not do was fade into the dark; her hair and skin reflected any nearby source of light.

When they had approached within a few yards and before Herel had time to speak, the newcomers fell on their knees, heads bowed.

"Daughter of Vah," the vienu said. "Thank you for guiding us to you."

Confused, Jareen glanced at Coir, but he could hardly see anything in the dark and his face was slack.

"They've been following the marks we left for the afflicted," Herel said.

Jareen felt more than saw Oreann's body tense. He had warned her that the Nethec companies would be as likely to find the marks as any afflicted, but she had insisted they try. She had spoken with confidence before, but as she looked at these three, she remembered how impossible it was to tell what control the Synod had over their minds.

"You are welcome," she said. "But you may not carry weapons."

"As you say," the vienu answered.

"Please," one of the vien said. "Can you heal the Malady?"

"I will seek Vah's blessing for your afflicted," Jareen answered. With help, she had constructed a little enclosure out of blankets and branches, just four walls to prevent anyone from seeing within. She could not give enough blood to cure them all at once, so she would have to start with the most sick. She had no doubt that some would be advanced in condition. Her thoughts went to Mleni, who had grown inseparable from Liethni's son Telu. Perhaps she could take some of his blood. . .

No. She could never.

"Is Vah'tane near?" the vienu asked.

Jareen hesitated.

"We believe so," Coir answered. At the sound of his voice, the kneeling supplicants raised their heads, clearly confused by what he was.

"First, we will see to your afflicted," Jareen added. They bowed their heads again. She remembered how the enclave of Elnwé had sent spies among them. There was no reason the Synod could not do the same.

"Ask them whatever you wish," Jareen said to Oreann, then added: "Herel, take the sentinels and bring them all here. Be kind but be watchful."

What else could she do?