The Bonded: The Allseer Trilogy Book I (5 page)

She felt very stupid. Here she was, constantly complaining about others trying to read her thoughts and she’d just tried to do the same to Garild. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that maybe it was her curiosity that was the curse and not her powers. Either way, she wouldn’t try it again. Besides, what if she messed up? She didn’t know what she was doing and for all she knew, the same thing that Herzin did to her she could easily do to another. She didn't wish that pain upon anyone.

Trying not to look as guilty as she felt, she turned her attention back to the road and followed Garild.

By the time they reached their home, Kirheen’s head was throbbing. She could feel a tightness in her throat, a churning in her belly that made her glad she'd skipped out on breakfast. Garild led the way, Kirheen following sluggishly. She focused on her breathing, trying hard not to obey her bodies desire to heave up what little there was in her stomach. She just wanted to lie down, pull a blanket over her head and let the shattered fragments of her skull settle back into place. Had Tomias not been waiting in the doorway, she would have done just that, but the look on his face told her she wouldn’t be doing anything without being scolded first.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite students! What a pleasant surprise to see you both here. I’m glad I’ve finally been deemed worthy of your attention this morning,” Tomias chided, voice dripping with sarcasm. He wore dark blue robes with silver trim, his white hair pulled back away from his face in a high tail. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “I’d love to hear a good explanation for this one, either of you? An hour less of training for the one with the best excuse.”

Garild grimaced. “We’re very sorry, Tomias. We were talking to Ian and Isa and lost track of the time.”

Kirheen rolled her eyes. “Oh please, we weren’t really talking to them by choice. Apparently my personal problems are of great interest lately so I decided to waste the morning telling everyone about my tale of woe and eternal suffering.”

Tomias raised a brow, obviously intrigued. “And how did they like such a tale?”

“Oh, they really enjoyed it. I took great care to get all the details just perfect. Nothing like a good tale of mental anguish at the hands of my former master to get people motivated first thing in the morning. It was such an intriguing tale I even forgot to eat.” At the thought of food, she felt a sudden tremble in her throat and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a slow intake of breath.

There was a brief glance between Tomias and Garild. “Kirheen, are you feeling quite alright?” Tomias unfolded his arms and stepped over to her, taking her by the shoulders gently. She could only imagine what he saw; tired bloodshot eyes, dark circles, sweat on her brow. She was a mess. Raising her eyes, she gave a halfhearted smile. “Are you still not sleeping?”

“No,” she admitted sheepishly. “Those herbs have done very little.”

He frowned. “And your head aches?”

“I have one now.”

He could see the pain in her eyes, however hard she tried to hide it. “Let’s get you inside. I’ll have them fetch Trista. We’ll see if she can’t figure out something else for you. We’ll postpone training, for a while at least.” He smiled a crooked smile that was all pity. “Looks like your excuse won today.”

Fenir glanced over his shoulder as they entered the room, his dark eyes betraying a hint of anger. He was seated in one of the chairs next to the fireplace, his right arm draped casually over the back. Unlike his twin, his white hair was unbound and fell limp around his face.

One of the many things Garild had learned over the past week was that Fenir couldn't speak. When questioned, Tomias had merely stated that he'd been born that way. It didn't stop him much. Most of his communication was done mentally, though it was slight even at that. Just because he could communicate didn't mean he wanted to, and Garild rarely heard him. With the glare they were receiving, he was suddenly very happy for that fact.

Tomias led Kirheen to the chair next to Fenir and she plopped down without hesitation, letting her body sink deeply into the cushion. She squeezed her eyes shut, resting her head against the back.

He had noticed her exhaustion at breakfast, but now it was written plainly on her face. Everything about her seemed drained, her face lacking color and her body limp as if it had given up on moving any more for the time being. He wished there was something he could do for her, some way for him to comfort her and make the pain go away. She’d suffered enough.

Without a word, Fenir grunted, rising from his seat and taking several large strides to the door.

Tomias spoke. “If you would Garild, can you please go with Fenir and fetch our healer? She might need help carrying supplies.”

Garild nodded. “Of course.” Though he agreed readily, the thought of accompanying Fenir made his stomach twist into knots. The man terrified him. He swallowed nervously and followed Fenir out into the clearing.

Fenir trudged along ahead of him, the tall grass squishing flat beneath his boots. They crossed the clearing quickly, Garild struggling to keep up with his long strides. Along the path to the North, a small wraith wood house rested to the side, smoke curling from the chimney. There were strange smells drifting in the air, mint and butter leaf blossoms and a variety of other scents he could not name.

With a heavy hand, Fenir knocked loudly on the door. There was a crash from within the house, the sound of a heavy kettle hitting the floor. Garild heard someone curse from within and a moment later, a red headed woman opened the door, her freckled face streaked with black powder. She wore a simple dark green robe, a lighter green sash tied around her waist. Her long fiery hair was braided and draped over her shoulder, small leaves and twigs sticking to it where it had brushed against some earlier project.

“What do you want,” she said. “I’m quite busy.”

Garild hesitated, waiting for Fenir to answer for him. When Fenir peeked back over his shoulder in annoyance, Garild blushed, realizing his mistake. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Trista?”

“Yes? Get on with it,” she huffed, wiping the back of her hand across her brow. She left a wide streak of black powder in its wake.

“Tomias sent us. He needs you to bring some supplies for Kirheen.”

“The ashen haired girl I saw to before? What’s wrong with her now,” she questioned.

“She hasn’t been feeling well. She hasn’t slept in days, she won’t eat and she keeps getting headaches. I'm worried.”

“And the herbs I gave her?”

“They haven’t been helping.”

Trista made several clicking noises with her tongue, tugging idly at her bottom lip with a sooty hand. “Give me just a moment, I think—“ A smell drifted from the open door, one that carried the scent of scorched plants. Trista bolted from the door, knocking over a bottle with her braid as she flipped around. It hit the floor and shattered, sending shards scattering in all directions. “Oh no, no, no! You weren’t supposed to burn.”

Fenir sighed, leaning against the side of the house while he waited. Garild stepped closer to the door and peeked inside, half expecting to be hit by something. The room was dimly lit, the window that would have let in natural light long since covered in soot. A wide table took up most the room, and it was covered in a variety of bottles, bowls, vials and herbs. Plants hung from the ceiling, soaked in pots of water and littered the floor wherever he looked. There was a small bed in the far corner of the room, though even that had an assortment of plants and scrolls covering its surface.

Trista was bent near the fireplace, trying to salvage the plants that had blacked in the bottom of a pan. She cursed and threw her spoon aside. “And here I thought it was going to be a good day.”

“Is there, uh, anything I can help you with,” Garild asked, peering into the room cautiously.

“Bring me that pouch of vials on the table. The leather one.”

Garild grabbed the leather pouch of vials and brought it to her, stepping carefully through the room. He tiptoed around bottles and plants, trying not to crush anything, though it seemed an impossible task. Trista took the vials from him and scanned the room.

“Hmm, perhaps dream blossom? No, not nearly strong enough. Sleepers kiss should do the trick. Mix it with burnt fern? No, star nettle would be better. And wraith bark.” She spoke quietly to herself as she danced through the room, picking up plants and tools along the way. It was a wonder she could find anything in that mess.

She shoved aside some earlier project, making room for the potion she planned on making. She took to crushing and mixing until she had three vials of a berry colored liquid that looked almost too thick to drink.

“I do believe that is it. Shall we?” She beckoned to the door and Garild stepped out. Fenir was standing at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed. As his eyes fell on Trista, the strangest thing happened. His expression softened, his shoulders slumped and he dropped his hands to his side.

“Sorry for the ill greeting, Fenir,” Trista apologized as she approached him. “I was a bit distracted.” A brief smile touched his lips. Garild was so taken back by his action that he did a double take, blinking several times to make sure he hadn't imagined it.

“Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.” She started down the trail, Fenir at her side. They walked in companionable silence, though occasionally she’d point out some plant and tell of its purpose to which Fenir would listen intently and stare at her as if she were some mystical plant herself. Garild glanced between them suspiciously.

As herbalist, Trista did not have a bond mate, not in the same sense that he and Kirheen were bonded. She was bonded with nature, her symbol being the broad leaf of the wraith wood trees. She knew nature better than anything and her purpose was to see to the health and well-being of all the Bonded. She was meant to be alone, never to have a companion.

In a way, Fenir held the same fate. As a twin born, he was bonded at the beginning of his life cycle to Tomias. They were two parts of a whole, capable of using their powers on each other long before either of them should have known how to.

It saddened him to realize that Fenir would never be anything more to Trista than a friend. It was obvious in the glances he gave her that he cared for her a great deal. Garild was sure, had the circumstances been different, the two would have been bond mates.

It wasn’t long before they were back. They entered the house quietly, trying not to disturb Kirheen. Instead of Kirheen, it was Tomias they disturbed. He lifted his head off his chest quickly, blinking away sleep.

“Are we sleeping on the job now,” Trista chided, a hand on her hip. Tomias stood and gave an exaggerated stretch, smile on his lips.

“I was merely pondering my morning, dear. I wouldn’t dare sleep if it meant missing that flaming red hair of yours.”

“You hate my red hair. And my freckles. You aren’t fooling me.”

“Those freckles seem to have mysteriously disappeared under some strange black veil. Is this some new herbalist magic?”

Trista rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up and make yourself useful.”

Garild stared at them, feeling utterly confused. If Tomias and Fenir were just one soul in two bodies, could it be they actually liked the same person? His world suddenly felt a lot more complicated.

“Where is Kirheen,” he asked, glancing around the room. She wasn't in the chair he had left her in. “Is she okay?”