THE GAZER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A medley of snow and pine leaf swirled past her, held hostage and forced south by an angry wind. This storm that now blew was domineering in its own right and would only grow fiercer with her coaxing. The trees bent knee, both in reverence, and to dodge its fury, the clanspeople took shelter in their homes, and the Dawnstar seemed eager to retreat for the day. Even to her, this storm was a meddlesome beast. Left to its own devices it would likely cost her her secondborn son, delaying his stubborn progress through the northern snow. She closed her eyes and gazed at him, confirming as she’d suspected. Decker may have been aided by the warmth of rare metal, but he could not endure a full week of blizzard, were it permitted to continue.

Elise shifted sight to her eldest son. Titon was much changed, but much the same, choosing to weather the storm with his nose in a book. He’d spent the past two weeks regaining both strength and wisdom, encouraged mostly by his pungent friend the tanner’s son. It was in the tanner’s home where Titon now read, though he had already begun the construction of his own self-inspired shelter. Elise did not lament that he now visited her less frequently and for little duration. For a young man ever in search of knowledge, a lifeless, unfamiliar mother did not provide much toward that aim.

With some reluctance, she turned her gaze to her other Titon—the one she had earlier watched chase an army into and out from its own castle walls. Ripe with conquest, he shared in the spoils of war with his men: pilfered food, drink, and cheer, but not in pilfered pleasure…as she half wished he might. Her faithful husband’s devotion was as unyielding as his axe, and witnessing it time and again only cut her deeper. You must never know my reasons, she said to him in her thoughts, apologizing for both a decade of deceit and a century to come.

She tore her gaze away from him now, convinced that the strengthened winds would not cause him any danger, and focused on her task. The dark gale ripped through her as she stood beside their now-frozen stream, alone and safe from prying eyes. She could not call a storm, nor could she add to its total strength, but she could hasten it…shape it…guide it—into something far more fleeting and intense. She felt the energy of it flow through her, a sensation neither elating nor unpleasant, as she pulled it from its northern source. Decker was too near the origin to be greatly affected by the concentration of power, a week’s worth of rage condensed into a day of wrath, but those south of her would feel it true.

So fixated was she on her effort, she did not realize until it was too late that she had begun to weep. Tearless and silent, she poured out her sorrow so that it may be carried away with the snow and pine. It seemed a lifetime since she had last expressed an emotion, and in truth, doing so brought her no relief. She hardened herself, redoubling her focus and thwarting the weakness she knew accompanied lack of restraint. You are the only one to blame, she scolded herself, then swallowed hard one final time, burying the entirety of her anguish back within—back where it belonged. She was a stone, once again, and so she vowed remain.