Embers at Galdrilene (14 page)

Startled, Maleena looked up. “When I leave here?”

“You will not stay child. I can feel your power pulling you to leave. I know you hear the same song in your mind that your mother did. She said it created a longing in her. A longing to go home she called it. Then she met your father and never have I seen a love such as theirs. He wanted to leave, too. They planned on it then decided to stay when your mother became pregnant with you. Magic ran very strong in your mother.”

Her grandmother took a slow, rattling breath. “Dear child, I have always loved you. Promise me you will take these treasures and go where your heart calls you.”

“I promise, Nana. Now please, rest so you can get better.”

Maleena stood alone by the large hearth in the front room. The small house felt very empty without her grandmother’s presence. Nothing Maleena had tried could stop the old woman from fading away. Unlike after most deaths, no neighbors stopped by. The villagers didn’t like Maleena enough to check on her. They thought she was too strange.

Maleena didn’t mind really, it was better to avoid them. She stared into the flames as loneliness settled over her. A low sound crooned in her mind. Maleena first felt it the day she turned sixteen years of age. Almost three years later, she was strongly connected with it and knew it belonged to another being. It communicated with her on an emotional level. Now when Maleena felt lonelier than at any other time in her life, it crooned softly, comfortingly, seeking to soothe the ache her grandmother’s death created.

She cast her mind out through the morning, avoiding the village and other close habitants. For a long time there was nothing, then her mind touched another. The connection felt thin, as if stretched over a great distance. She jerked back almost as a reflex to keep from seeing the person‘s secrets. Tentatively, she touched again. It was the mind of a woman, though strangely shielded; no emotions–no thoughts–flowed from her. After a moment, Maleena drew back into herself, careful to erase the mental path.

Shaken, she picked up the small tea kettle from its place near the fire and poured a cup of the steaming liquid. She sat down at the small table near the hearth and sipped at the tea, turning the discovery over in her mind. The woman must possess some kind of magic or she wouldn’t have the ability to block her mind off in such a manner.

Maleena got up and walked over to the shelf that held all of the cooking pots and bowls. Reaching up she took down a dark bowl, its surface as smooth as glass and dark as a moonless night. She placed it on the floor in front of the hearth and poured water into it until it shimmered on the verge of flowing over the sides.

She lowered herself to the floor in front of the bowl. Tucking her legs beneath her, Maleena closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to center themselves and a quiet to settle over her mind. When the quiet was complete, she focused her thoughts on the path to the woman. Letting her eyes drift open she stared into the bowl and whispered, “Show me.”

Colors swirled through the still water as her power flowed into it, twisting around each other in intricate patterns before settling to show the face of the woman she’d connected with. She appeared older, but Maleena couldn’t tell how much. She looked into the woman’s eyes. They were violet, like her own. She had never known anyone with eyes that color although her grandmother once told her that her mother’s eyes had been the same. Maleena was about to dismiss the image in the bowl when a vision seized her.

Everything around her spun and blurred then cleared abruptly. The woman with violet eyes rode a huge gray horse. The vision swirled. Again everything cleared. A lake lay in a perfect circle. On the sand of the beach Maleena stood next to a young man. He seemed oddly familiar, as if she should know him.

Again everything swirled. When it cleared, Maleena found herself lying on the floor next to the bowl. The vision left her breathless and weak, as they always did. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position and looked again at the woman’s face that floated on the glass smooth surface of the water, taking in every detail before allowing the image to dissolve.

By the time the colors faded from the bowl, Maleena was already in her storeroom. She pulled the large, leather saddlebags her grandmother had used when she took produce and lace into the village. She paused in the act of placing an extra dress in a bag.
What am I thinking? What am I going to do, take off and ride across country, hoping to meet up with some strange woman?
Anxiety filled her and she gazed around the familiar house. She’d never been more than a mile from Lowden. Fear of the unknown nearly changed her mind. Maleena took a deep breath and pushed it aside. The vision came to her for a reason. She would keep her promise to her grandmother to follow her heart.

Maleena spent the remainder of the morning packing what she planned to take. By afternoon the packs were full with the scroll and the necklace carefully wrapped and tucked inside.

Satisfied, she placed saddlebags against the wall. She threw her heavy woolen cloak on and stepped out into the cold, damp air and headed to the barn behind the house.

A small gray mare whickered at her when she opened the barn door. Maleena pulled the horse from the stall and ran a brush over the soft coat, still thick with winter hair, before settling a saddle on the mare’s back and slipping a bridle over her head. Arella was a gift from her father shortly before he died. She felt a touch of sadness at the dim memory of gentle arms holding her while a man led a tiny filly up to her. Maleena felt a deep love for the mare, the only connection to her parents now that her grandmother was gone.

A small worry nagged at her. What if the aging horse couldn’t make the journey? Tears stung her eyes at the thought of losing the mare. For a moment, she stood undecided.
Maybe I shouldn’t leave. What else could the world hold that would make it any better than living here?
Maleena chewed her lower lip.
I’ll go ahead and get the supplies, just in case I do decide to leave.

Checking one more time to make sure the girth was snug; she gave the mare’s slightly dished face a pat and then climbed into the saddle. She hooked her right leg over the top pommel and slid her left foot in the stirrup, settling her skirt so it fell neatly. “Are you ready, Arella?” Maleena asked, giving the horse a gentle nudge. It wouldn’t take long to ride the distance to the modest inn that offered food and lodging to the passing miners and traders during the warmer months.

Maleena had no desire to see the townsfolk and so skirted the village on a narrow woodland path, thankful the rain had stopped. A glance at the brooding clouds told her it could start again anytime. The air smelled strongly of wet pine and earth. Purple, yellow and white crocuses lined the path, their colors unusually bright against the dreary day.

She reached the break in the close growing pines where a wider path led through a large meadow to the Stone Wagon Inn. Maleena looked up at the inn as the mare crossed the clearing. Rising three stories, its roof was freshly thatched and its porch hung with airing rugs. Shuttered windows were thrown open during the brief lull in the rain to let fresh air into the rooms.

The innkeeper’s wife, Edadella Inreen, stood outside sweeping the broad, covered porch. She looked up and set the broom aside. Striding quickly, Edadella met her before she made it halfway across the open space. Maleena sensed the displeasure the woman felt at seeing her ride in.

“What brings you here, Maleena?”

Maleena took a deep breath to steady herself against the strong emotions rolling off Edadella. “I need to buy some traveling cakes.”

“Traveling cakes, eh? Are you leaving then?”

“Yes,” Maleena answered simply, offering no more information.

Edadella shook her head. “It’s truly a shame about your grandmother, she was the normal one. You stay here. I’ll bring them out to you. I have customers and the last thing I need is you in there.”

Maleena watched the older woman disappear into the inn. The few people moving about outside the inn avoided looking her way. A matronly woman and her small child circled wide around her as they passed. The woman looked straight ahead and managed to make it look as if Maleena didn’t exist.

The little girl, however, looked at Maleena with the open innocence of youth, too young to have learned the prejudices of the adults. Her look held none of the uneasiness or hostility that filled the eyes of her elders when they looked at Maleena. The child offered a small smile before her mother realized what was going on and roughly pulled the girl forward.

Only a few moments passed before the innkeeper’s wife returned, carrying a wrapped bundle. Maleena handed her payment and accepted the bundle, careful to make sure she didn’t touch Edadella. The exhaustion of holding back the emotions of others in close proximity didn’t compare to the painful overload of actually touching someone.

Edadella started toward the inn, then paused and looked back. “It’s probably best you know, if you leave. Your grandmother was a kind woman who healed many of the sick in this village. My youngest would’ve died two winters ago if it hadn’t been for your grandmother. In deference to her, I feel it’s only fair to warn you.”

She hesitated, then continued, “There has been talk these past few days since your grandmother has been gone. What you do… it seems much too close to magic. Maybe it is. I don’t know and don’t want to know. But there are others who are more sure of what they think and it would be best all the way around if you were to go. Go somewhere far away. If what you do is magic, then find some Members of the Peace and turn yourself in before you become a danger. If not, then for Fates sake, bury what you do deep and never let it out again. If you go far enough away and do that, you might have a normal life.” She turned without another word and walked away.

Maleena watched her go, a small, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Edadella’s words erased her doubts about leaving. She turned Arella and rode back the way they had come.

W
hen Maleena reached her house, she settled her mare back in the barn with a scoop of oats before slipping into the house through the back door. She stirred up the fire, checked her packing one more time, added the traveling cakes, and then fixed a small dinner. The cold rain began again.

Normally, the sound of rain drumming on the roof soothed her. Tonight it only added to the restless feeling stirring within her stomach. She picked up her lace, hoping the delicate process of weaving the fine threads would settle her. Several mistakes later, she set it back down in irritation. The anxious tone of the hum in her mind added to the restless feeling.