69 pages, comb bound, white cardstock cover
Poetry by Jessica R. Lerbs; Marian Crane; Lorna Millen; Angela K. Scott. Art by Marian Crane; Angela K. Scott; Kiri Namtvedt; Lorna Millen. Cover by Marian Crane.
Raen watched her friend's face set into stiff, scared lines as they approached the classroom door. It made her furious just to think about the kind of life he'd had as a slave to that monster Dair, making him afraid to face a roomful of Heralds, by all that was bright and holy! But at least he'd survived the withdrawal from the awful drug Dair had invented, and the terrible things Dair's nephew Piers had done to him. Well, all she could do now was try and boost his almost nonexistent confidence.
Ceilyn was glad he'd skipped breakfast. He hung back behind Keefer as his friend knocked on the door, feeling nauseous.
"You'll be fine," Raen whispered, her hand on his shoulder making him realize he was backing up. Her green eyes were warm meeting his frightened black ones, her smile a comfort he was coming to depend on.
Shaking his head mutely, he reluctantly followed Keefer into the classroom to meet his yearmates, limping slightly behind his friend, who was like enough to be his brother, but for his white skin. Ceilyn stopped when Keefer did, staring fixedly at the floor, reflexively pulling his sleeves over his wrists to make sure no one could see the white, spidery scars on his dusky skin.
Night wrapped woolen blankets around the city of Haven, and Companion's Field was lapped in a sheet of silver mist. The air was just barely cool, a shivery briskness on the skin, and dew spangled the grass. Overhead the sky was pale as new milk, with a few stars gleaming through the clouds. Silence thick enough to move through filled the night.
Starlight pooled in one corner of the field, shimmering over the white forms clustered comfortably together. On such a pleasant night, most of the Companions slept outside, and the herd had drifted up against the low fence that kept horses out of the Field. Soft sighs, shufflings, and the stamp as someone occasionally shifted a hoof made a pocket of familiar sound in the silence. Their heads nodded peacefully, and some leaned together as they slept.
An owl ghosted past overhead; the soft woof of air spilling out of her wings barely stirred the night. Nevertheless one of the Companions started awake, her eyes glowing bluely in the darkness. She flung up her head in alarm. Slender, white ears swiveled to catch whatever it was that had awakened her, but nothing stirred the stillness. None of the others seemed disturbed, and the mare lowered her head again, sheepishly.
Keller was tiny for a Companion, barely taller than a good sized pony, and terribly self-conscious about it. She was exquisitely beautiful, delicate as a dragonfly, but in spite of that she always felt awkward and out of place. She liked to spend time with the foals, being nearer to their size, because the older Companions tended to treat her as if she were made of spun glass.
Keller shook her head and snorted softly in self-disgust. Can I blame them, she thought, when I startle awake in the night for no apparent reason, scared as silly as any foal? Yet in spite of her efforts Keller was unable to return to sleep. No sooner had she lowered her head than her apprehension returned, stronger than before. Fear-sweat sprang out on her skin, a chill prickle sharp as buckthorn. Keller rolled her eyes and stepped nervously away from the herd, so as not to wake the others with her restlessness.
Maybe a walk will calm me down, she thought. Keller headed for the far end of the Field, away from the Collegium and towards the forest. A growing sense of urgency swept over her, and Keller found herself picking up to a trot, and then a canter as she went. Now. It has to be now.
Suddenly Keller realized what she was feeling, and shock brought her up stiff-legged, still. She stood, blowing in bewilderment, as awareness flooded through her. Me? Now? But I'm not--I can't--I'm only eight years old! I shouldn't be Choosing for at least two more years!
Starfire was startled from his reading by urging within his mind. :Need help, hurry, come.: The feelings hit him like cold water; Kellor, Starfire's bondbird, was extremely upset about something. Starfire hurried from his room and followed the pulse of feelings that Kellor was relaying to him. The feelings grew stronger with each moment and Starfire soon found himself running through the halls of the Collegium.
As Starfire neared the front gates, Kellor's thoughts again reached out to him. :Small one scared, hurry. Starfire help:.
Starfire saw a cluster of people and a few Companions a little north of the Collegium's main gates. As he approached the group a Herald he barely recognized spotted him and pushed him to the front of the crowd. There Starfire saw a girl about sixteen holding the group back with a familiar looking object; it was a climbing stick like the ones used by the scouts of the Vales. Her hair was braided and dyed in Vale patterns also. Kellor was on the packs that lay in front of the girl with his wings outspread. As Starfire approached, Kellor relaxed immediately. :White ones scare friend,: Kellor said.
Starfire looked at Kellor, then the girl, and finally at the group of Heralds and Companions clustered about.
"What is going on here?" he asked.
When he spoke he attracted the girl's attention. Before Starfire knew what had happened the girl gave a cry and lunged in his direction. Her impact caused Starfire to take several steps back. She clung to him like her life depended on it. She immediately started to try to talk to Starfire, but her whole body was shaking so hard that the words came out as unidentifiable stammers.
I had expected to see new sights on my internship, but no amount of description had prepared me for the sight of Lake Evendim. Water! Huge masses of it, thundering against the cliffs, filling the air with a scent so heady that I could hardly sit still in the saddle. Evkiel felt the change even as I did, without words between us; he pranced, pretending he wasn't just as tired as I was, flung up his head and challenged Ciel to a race.
"There it is," Kio laughed, pointing across the gently rolling hills to the east. Far along the shore, almost obscured in spray and mist, I could just barely see grey turrets with bright green pennants fluttering in the wind.
"Castle Seahawk," I said. A sly impulse took me and I added, "The home of the dreaded Nareva."
"Oh, stop it already," snapped Kio, sliding down from Ciel. "It'll be bad enough once we get there and I have to endure her endless moaning and groaning about familial obligations."
"What obligations are those?"
"Oh, I expect she'll lambaste me 'bout the thousand and one imagined insults I've given her. She'll be wrong a thousand times, though."
"And the one time she's right?"
"Never you mind!" Kio went into a series of brisk stretches. I sighed, more from relief at viewing the incipient end of our travels (however temporary) than from any exasperation with Kio. I had learned to read her moods pretty well in the months we'd been together. Our continual banter was a source of great amusement to me, but she could take a turn for the morose faster than I could reply.
Thud! I opened my eyes to see Lancer staring down at me for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. I closed them again. We had failed, as usual. By the time we learn how to do this, I'll have acquired more bruises than I get in Rina's weapons class.
"Again, trainees," came the stern voice of Darsha, our instructor. She was trying to teach us how to ground, center, and shield at a speed that suited her liking--not with our own centers (we had learned that long ago), but with the center that we Shared. Lancer, my Companion, and I had just discovered this, long after we began our training a little over a year ago. We now had to learn the basics all over again, and it wasn't easy. But we couldn't move ahead in our Mage Gift class until we did.
I wearily picked myself up off the floor, knowing full well that I would be down there again in a moment or so.
:You should be more optimistic, Chosen,: Lancer said.
:Easy for you to say,: I growled. :You don't end up on the floor each time we fail.:
Just when we thought we had reached our center, Darsha would give us a nasty mental shove, which--unless we had firmly gasped our center--would send us (or rather, me) flying to the floor. Lancer, being much more sure-footed, kept his balance.
