Life is not about the calm, it is about the storm.
Sparrow found it hard to remember this essential truth, sometimes. Or, even, to accept it. After all, she was lucky enough to live with her family, her beloved heartmate, the Herald Cloudbrother, and their son, Thistle. Together, they had made their home in the beautiful oasis of K’Valdemar Vale, where storms appeared to be more of an illusion than a reality.
In the Vale, Sparrow could almost pretend that storms and sorrow had become a fable of distant legend, rather than an unavoidable aspect of life itself.
Almost.
But times like the Summer Gathering drew her out of her personal paradise and back into the larger world of Valdemar. And Sparrow knew a great reckoning was waiting for her outside the safety of the Vale.
Summer in the Vale was, if anything, even more lush than in all the rest of the year. After the intense growth spurts of spring, the Vale settled into a glorious sequence of blooming, flowering, fruiting, repeating. Sparrow had grown up in the stony northern village of Longfall, her childhood punctuated by ice storms and heavy snows. Now, she marveled at the temperate bubble that was K’Valdemar Vale.
The Vale’s heat and abundance, so easy and overflowing, thrilled Sparrow every summer. Intoxicated by the heavy floral perfume of the multicolored canopy blooming overhead, waking to the rising chorus of exotic, intensely plumed birds, warmed by the languid heat, she walked more slowly, smiled more often, took naps in a hammock out back in the heat of the afternoons.
The Vale was her home. But while Sparrow much preferred the peace of her calm and anonymous life in the Vale, the storms of the world outside her ekele reminded her how precious her life with her family was, how fragile.
She turned her mind away from such huge, overbearing thoughts, and instead concentrated on setting things to rights in her own sphere of being. Her comfy ekele, snug at ground level, seemed too small of late. Mostly because of her rapidly growing son Thistle, who was undergoing his own intense growth spurt.
At the moment, Sparrow concentrated on polishing her best serving bowls. She sat in the shade outside her front door on a wrinkled old blanket as she scrubbed away, the beaten copper of the largest one singing under her fingers. A gentle, cooling breeze caressed the back of her neck.
After the Gathering, she expected at least a few members of her heartmate’s clan, the Cloudwalkers, to stay in the Vale with them for an extended visit.
First, they had to get through the Gathering. But Sparrow had to keep her thoughts close to the ground, snug and safe in her nest.
It had been years since Cloudbrother’s adopted family had ventured so far south, and Sparrow welcomed the opportunity to offer hospitality to the people who had saved her heartmate’s life long ago, when he was a lost, desperately ill little boy.
Even smaller than her son Thistle was now.
Thistle was six going on seven. The baby smell at the base of the back of his neck had faded, and instead when she grabbed him to hug him, Sparrow gratefully inhaled his salty and peppery scent, just as intoxicating in its own little boy way.
Tis was a creature forever in motion. He had lost his baby chubbiness, and now, wiry and dark, he busied himself about the ekele like a never-resting, darting shadow.
But Tis was wise beyond his years . . . as if there were an invisible sage walking behind him, whispering disquieting truths in his ear. Deep down, Sparrow knew with rock-solid certainty that her boy would soon be Chosen, just as her husband had been.
This was the world’s way.
And, while she was deeply proud of both heartmate and son, sometimes Sparrow felt a little wistful that their talents would sometimes take them away from her.
Suddenly, as if conjured, Tis materialized in the front doorway, interrupting her thoughts, balancing on the threshold on the tips of his toes. In his outstretched hands, a small, jade keeryn climbed and danced, its wide golden jaws open in a toothy smile.
He squinted down at the little scaled thing, his face a study in fierce concentration. “Urtho, the Silent Mage, was the father of this keeryn.”
That was an interesting way to put things, to say the least.
Sparrow set the copper bowl down on the old, patched blanket where she was sitting. She massaged her aching fingers as she looked up to focus on the boy and his keeryn.
If Tis had named it, he had never told his mother. A part of her didn’t want to know, didn’t want to intrude on his inner world. But the secret of the keeryn from Iftel weighed on Sparrow’s mind.
Almost five years ago, Sparrow and Cloudbrother had traveled on a Herald’s mission to the remote, closed land of Iftel in search of an antidote to the drought that raged there. In return for Cloudbrother calling the rain back into the land, the grateful ruler of Iftel had bestowed the gift of this little enchanted keeryn.
Sparrow and Cloudbrother had hoped the little keeryn, creature of fire and water, could provide the secret to healing their own corner of Velgarth: the Forest of Sorrows, dangerously imbalanced once again and suffering, in need of healing.
So far, that hope had remained unfulfilled. Cloudbrother had taken the little keeryn to the Council at Haven and offered it to the Crown as a possible antidote for the troubles in the north, but the Council in its collective wisdom insisted that the keeryn was the Herald’s, that he and his family were the rightful caretakers of the gift.
They were instructed to transport the gift right back home to the north, to the country of the Forest of Sorrows. And so they had obeyed, and they stayed in their home in the Vale, knowing that a day of reckoning would come, someday.
Deep down, Sparrow knew the Gathering was the place, the time. The battle was going to be joined, for once and for all.
The shining silver claws of the jade keeryn scratched faintly against Tis’s skinny, outstretched forearm. It scampered up the length of his arm and nestled in the hollow of his collarbone.
Despite her deep and unremitting worry, Sparrow couldn’t keep from smiling. Such beauties in the world!
“Yes, indeed, Urtho’s green jade child,” she said. “Agreed, our little keeryn is a most amazing and generous gift. Do be careful with it. Keep it safe.”
Tis met her gaze, and, as usual, his intensity half amazed Sparrow—and secretly half frightened her. How could such a small, compact body contain so much fire?
How could he know the dangers they faced now?
“I want to bring him to the Gathering, Mama.” He paused. “Please.”
She kept her gaze level, even as her heart started pounding, hard. “Why?”
His expression didn’t change, but his lips began to tremble.
“Because,” he said, his voice tentative. Suddenly, he sounded exactly like the little boy he still was. “I know it is a jewel. I know it is a treasure we need to keep hidden. But . . . I just have a feeling.”
Sparrow nodded slowly, swallowing the big lump that had formed in her throat. Tis was just a boy, but he knew, as well as she did, they were all soon walking into a crucible.
“Me too,” she said. “Keep him hidden, but bring him.” Sparrow hesitated, then decided to say what she was thinking. “I think we might need him.”
The following morning, the day dawned hot and dry, and they prepared to leave for the Gathering.
Cloudbrother, dressed in white trews and tunic, embroidered with the intricate and brightly colored patterns of his clan, sat astride Abilard, his Companion, tall and slim on his mount. His eyes were closed, sealed shut by a near-fatal childhood fever, but otherwise he looked so agile and gallant on his mount, like a Shin’a’in warrior.
Sparrow stood in the doorway, watching her heartmate and his Companion whirl in the clearing outside the ekele, unified in motion. A light breeze blew, and a white and pink cascade of blossoms rained down on them like aromatic, fluffy snow.
“Handsome devil, your fine heartmate,” Roark said from behind her.
Roark always made Sparrow smile. She kept watching Cloudbrother and Abilard as she replied, “He’s my handsome devil, all right.”
She turned then to take in the sight of Roark, half-hidden by the cool shadows in the back of her home.
The fact that her best friend in the world was a bossy hertasi usually didn’t give Sparrow any pause. But this morning, perhaps because they were riding once again, away from her daily, everyday mundane life, the sweet absurdity of their friendship brought tears to her eyes.
“Sure you don’t want to join us?” she asked, her voice light and teasing, her heart absolutely serious. Because, deep down, Sparrow was terrified she was never coming back.
Roark laughed, a deep throaty croak of a laugh. His amber eyes shone, and his dewlap stretched out, revealing the rainbow iridescent scales so often tucked away while he worked. “No Gatherings for me, dear little bird. I am made for the hearth, for the tidy hole, for the quiet and warmth. You go fly away, into the bright sky. You will come back to me.”
Sparrow caught Roark’s gaze, which did not waver as they looked at each other for a long, lingering minute.
She swallowed hard. “You sure? You sure I will come back?”
“My darling, I promise you. You will return to me, and we will have tea and scones in the gardens, and we will listen to the bondbirds singing. Until then, celebrate. And remember, love is bigger than the world.”
He blinked his eyes then, slowly, his lower eyelids closing up over his enormous amber irises. Roark opened his eyes again, bowed to Sparrow with a flourish, and withdrew into the shadows of the cool storeroom in the back of the ekele.
She and Roark had an unspoken rule—never say goodbye. Roark had not broken their pact, but he had come pretty close.
With a great effort, Sparrow turned her attention away from the ekele and back to where Cloudbrother sat tall astride Abilard, waiting for her to emerge.
And Tis sat in front of her heartmate now, dark and quick and tense, his fingers buried deep in Abilard’s glorious, silver-white mane. His face, still and intense as always, was tilted up toward the sky, taking in the sun like a turning sunflower.
“Mama,” he said, his imperious voice brooking no more delay. “We’ve been waiting for you. I’m . . . All. Packed. Up.”
And he looked down then, wiggled his eyebrows meaningfully at her, his expression so deadly serious that she had to restrain a nervous laugh.
“It will be so wonderful to see our family once again,” she replied to him, and to Cloudbrother, too. “It’s been a long time since we simply celebrated the season.”
Abilard drew near, his silvery hooves flashing in the loamy dirt, and Cloudbrother reached his long, strong arm down to her.
“Let’s ride, my love,” he said, his voice easy, warm, and free from fear. “It’s going to be fun.”
And then he whispered into her soul, his Mindspeech a gentle caress. :Don’t be afraid,: he said. :What will be, will be.:
And her beloved’s courage sent strength and peace flowing through Sparrow’s own body. If he could be brave, then she could follow his lead.
She clambered up onto the craggy rock near the front entrance of their ekele, the one she used as a mounting block, and Cloudbrother pulled her up to sit behind him. She snuggled up close to his back, Tis no longer sheltered between them, but riding in the vanguard, up front.
But all of them knew, outside of the protection of the Vale, the Forest would be looking for them. And they would have to face the malevolence that had sickened the Forest and almost claimed Cloudbrother’s life, time after time.
The Summer Gathering had already begun in the Great Clearing located between Longfall and the K’Valdemar Vale. Midsummer was still a couple of days away, so the zenith of the festival was still building. Tis was beyond excited for the festival, as it was the first one he would attend.
The Forest of Sorrows hummed with life. Outside of the Vale’s protection, the forest was sticky and humid instead of hot and dry, and clouds of gnats, thorny thickets, and boggy patches impeded their progress.
Abilard forged ahead, his wise, far-seeing eyes picking out the safest pathway through the damp, spongy forest floor. And as they rode, the four of them considered the problem they were riding into.
Long ago, when Cloudbrother was a five-year-old Longfall boy named Brock, a wraith had enticed him into the forest, and he was sickened with a strange and deadly malady. He was discovered by the Cloudwalker clan, who had saved his life but at the cost of the life of Silver Cloud, one of the clan elders and a wise Adept.
Sparrow hugged her heartmate closer as Abilard broke into a canter. She had met Cloudbrother’s clan before, and they had always welcomed her with open arms. But Sparrow, deep down, always felt a little awkward in their presence. They all knew that Cloudbrother still owed his clan a life-debt.
Even his name was a reminder of what it had cost to save him. Thanks to the intervention of his clan, Brock had survived, but he had lost his sight. Instead, he had gained the ability to fly high above the ordinary plane of existence, into the elemental realms where spirits and energy fields reigned. His clan had renamed him Cloudbrother, since he lived in the clouds more than on the plane of the living.
All of this changed when Abilard had Chosen him and brought him to Sparrow for the healing only she could bring to him. Sparrow, who had no Gift, could still bring Cloudbrother back to earth, just as he could lift her spirit into the realm of the clouds. Together, they could range from the upper vault of the heavens all the way to ground.
They had fought the Forest, and the malevolence that had sickened it, to a draw. In the course of this struggle, Cloudbrother had grown from a sickly and blind Trainee to a powerful Herald, one renowned in the far-off land of Iftel as Cloud Born, the Herald who had called the rain down upon a drought-stricken land.
Now it was time for Cloudbrother to heal his native country. And finally free himself from the debt he owed both his clan and the Forest itself.
But he could not do it alone.
:Our adversary has claimed air and earth,: Abilard Mindspoke. :To heal the forest, we must bring fire and water.:
His words sent a healing peace through Sparrow’s body, as always. And despite the dangers hunting them, in Abilard’s company, as always, she knew they could all depend on the Companion’s strength, his love for them all.
Could a Companion Choose a whole family?
Sometimes, Sparrow liked to think it was so. Cloudbrother’s Companion, Abilard, had Chosen him before he and Sparrow had become lifebonded, but from the moment Sparrow had encountered Abilard and Cloudbrother in the Forest of Sorrows, the Companion had treated her with immense gentleness and welcome.
And, to her forever gratitude, despite the lack of a Gift of her own, Abilard could Mindspeak into all of their minds. So he was able to fully communicate with all of them, Thistle, Cloudbrother, and Sparrow herself.
Now they rode to the Summer Gathering as one family.
:I brought the keeryn,: Tis said, his voice strong and steady. :He will help us, he is both fire and water.:
Sparrow could not reply in Mindspeech, and she didn’t want to speak of the keeryn aloud . . . it seemed as though the Forest itself was listening to their passage through the trees. The dark dappled shadows under the trees vibrated with an uncanny energy.
The Forest was hungry. But for now it waited before it pounced.
Cloudbrother replied, speaking the words that echoed in Sparrow’s own thoughts. :The keeryn may be the key, the Council said. But I’m not sure how he can help us. Do you know, Tis?:
Sparrow could sense her son’s frustration as a tension between her shoulder blades, even more than through his words. :It is a puzzle, Papa . . . I don’t have the training to solve it. But don’t you know? Don’t Heralds know everything?:
Cloudbrother laughed out loud at that, his easy, ordinary laugh, the one that Sparrow loved the best. :Don’t I wish! But, no. This is Urtho’s mystery. The Council didn’t know what to do either, so it’s not just me. This is untrodden ground, Tis. Let’s explore it together. Maybe my brothers the Walkers will have an idea.:
Sparrow nestled closer along Cloudbrother’s back. “I hope the whole clan is there,” she said. “I know they can’t all make it. But we’ve only been back to visit up north the one time. Sometimes . . . do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you had never left them at all?”
Her heartmate didn’t hesitate. “My life up there would have been pretty short, Sparrow. I was pretty sick. You’re the one who kept me from floating into the clouds forever.”
She rested her cheek against his strong, slim back, her sun hat slipping off the back of her head and resting by its strap across the back of her shoulders. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “What would I do without you?”
The Forest rose up all around them as Abilard cantered along, the firs and oaks surrounding them all alive and dark and scary and beautiful. The Forest of Sorrows was full of secrets and magic, and while Sparrow, a daughter of the northern reaches, always maintained a healthy respect for the dangers, she had always loved the Forest, too.
From far away, hidden in the trees, rose the faint sound of singing.
The Gathering.
Sparrow peeked out from behind Cloudbrother’s shoulder, and that’s when she saw them. Didn’t hear them, because despite their multitude they never made a sound.
Over their heads, darting from branch to branch, an enormous murder of crows.
An honor guard? Or messengers of danger?
Within a candlemark, the little procession, family on the ground, great flock of crows in the sky, reached the Great Clearing where the Gathering was taking place. A huge, rolling meadow, surrounded on all sides by craggy forest and protruding boulders and stones like prehistoric keeryns’ teeth. The fairgrounds were dotted with dozens of round white tents, some for visiting clans, some for merchants selling spices, dyes, fabrics, and regional culinary delights.
It was not an ancient site. Once a small meadow, the Clearing had only been expanded once trading between the northern clans and the isolated northern villages, like Longfall, became steady and significant every year. The Midsummer Gathering outside Longfall had grown from a simple summer festival, to a trading fair, to the full-blown celebration of life that the Gathering had become.
Now the Clearing had come to life, with tents, horses, clan members, and local villagers all celebrating the fullness of summer in northern Valdemar. A great roar of music, singing, chanting, and chatter filled the air, echoing among the trees.
Longfall kites swooped through the humid air, their long, rainbow-colored tails a striking contrast to the dull, bluish gray homespun the northern villagers wore, down on the ground. Sparrow’s heart leaped up at the sight of them. They reminded her of the Longfall kite festivals of her childhood.
As Abilard drew closer to the Gathering, Sparrow scanned the clustered white tents, looking for the Cloudwalker clan. Before she could find them, Abilard’s pace quickened.
“There’s Liros,” Cloudbrother said. “Do you see him? I sense him. He is with his children, way at the end.”
Abilard whinnied and broke into a gallop. Sparrow couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
Liros was Cloudbrother’s closest friend, a singer and Adept who often met Sparrow’s heartmate on the elemental plane. Sparrow hadn’t seen him since Thistle was a tiny baby.
He stretched to his full height, his jet-black hair long and straight to the waist, hair flecked with silver now. Liros’ trews were embroidered with fantastical, intricate designs of twining vines, birds of paradise, and smiling hertasi.
Here, in the midst of this multitude, it was hard for Sparrow to maintain her fear and sense of high alert. Instead, she relaxed in this sea of teeming humanity and realized that if danger struck, she was connected and protected by a clan that had claimed her little family for its own.
Liros saw them and raised his arm in greeting.
Abilard drew close, and his silver hooves danced as they arrived outside Liros’ tent.
“Welcome!” Liros called to them. “Welcome, brother Cloudwalker. How you walk in beauty! Come in with your family, we have a great midday meal afoot, inside, out of the heat of the day.”
And then he saw the crows, and he paused. At least fifty of them, flying in a lazy, swirling column over their heads, as if they feared to alight on the open ground.
Liros bowed to the birds swooping in flight. “And welcome, messengers of the sky. You have come once again to escort my sister. You bring tidings.”
Abilard’s long, strong legs stilled, and the three of them slid off his richly caparisoned saddle. Tis took Cloudbrother’s right hand, and Sparrow held his left. Abilard led the way to where Liros and his three children waited for them.
They all embraced in turn, Liros hugging Cloudbrother first, then Sparrow. He smelled of spices and cook smoke.
“And who is this great warrior?” Liros asked, crouching down so he could meet Tis’s gaze at eye level.
“My son, Tis,” Cloudbrother said. “He is growing fast and strong now.”
“Of course,” Liros replied. “I remember you from when you were a tiny littling, my friend. Welcome! Many friends here for you to meet. These are my brood . . . Mila, Tantos, and Harmony. Are you hungry? Eat, then explore the fair. We do not dance until tonight.”
Tis was bashful, Sparrow could see, but he mastered his nerves and offered his hand for Liros to shake in greeting. “Thank you, sir,” he said.
“Liros is one of the greatest song healers in our clan,” Cloudbrother said. “You will see, tonight. It’s going to be great, Tis!”
Together, they followed Liros and his three children, the comely Mila and her little brother and sister, Tantos and Harmony. Abilard left them at the entrance to the tent, so that he could explore the Gathering, and they agreed to meet at dusk for the Great Dance.
Until then, it would be feasting, reconnecting, and, if Sparrow was lucky, some afternoon napping.
Sparrow squinted up at the crows before she entered the tent. She and the crows could not speak to each other; she knew that from the other times they had appeared to her. But she waved at them now, as if to say she was fine and that they knew where she was.
This seemed to satisfy them, and they whirled into the air and flew back to the forest, suddenly cawing in unison as they went. She watched them go, wondering at their visitation and appreciating the mystery of them.
And then she slipped into the tent with all the others.
Her dream of an afternoon nap came true. Liros’s heartmate, the slightly round and pacific Angheli, offered her a sleeping mat well inside the tent after their feast.
“Tis will roam with my brood,” she said. “And we can rest in the heat of the day. Long night, tonight!”
Sparrow deeply appreciated Angheli’s generosity. “You all can catch up while I take a rest.”
Angheli nodded, smiling and patting the white linen cushion. “I can get things set to right myself. You’ve had a long ride, please, rest.”
Gratefully, Sparrow sank into the cool white linens. And fell backward into a deep, soft dream.
The keeryn appeared before her, his golden and silvery whiskers quivering as they spoke together in the clouds. In this plane of being, the keeryn was huge, and his jeweled eyes sparkled with kindness and fire.
“There is fate, there is destiny, but there is also love, Sparrow,” the keeryn said. “Greater than all of these is love.”
Sparrow considered his words. “Keeryn, you speak true, but why do you remind me of this now?”
“Because, my dear friend, Cloudbrother’s destiny was to die, as a boy, long ago.”
In this place of heightened sensation, the keeryn’s words pierced Sparrow’s heart with a physical pain. “But he did not,” she whispered.
“No,” the keeryn said. “Love saved him. The love of the people who found him and healed him, and your love too, Sparrow. Never doubt the power of love.”
“Cloudbrother is in danger, then.”
“Do you doubt it? Yes, he is. We all know it, and the power of love might not save him this time. But that does not mean that the love does not exist.”
“What do I do? I can love him, but I can’t save him . . . I’m not a warrior or a Mage or even a Healer. I’m just his heartmate.”
“Without you, Urtho himself couldn’t save Cloudbrother from his fate. But love is beyond fate.”
The keeryn bowed and grinned, his curving dream-teeth much longer and stronger than those in his jade statue form. And gigantic, webbed silver and gold wings unfurled behind him, and her little keeryn shot into the sky over her dream-head, filling the sky with his green, gold, and silver presence.
He opened his mouth wide, and fire reached across the cloudy gray sky of her dream. It lit up the clouds from above, turning them from ash to a shifting, multicolored glory, like an upside-down sunset.
Sparrow struggled to wake, to flee from the intense, overwhelming beauty of the dream. She lay in her shadowy, quiet corner, heart pounding, the sweat streaming down the back of her neck.
She made a distinct, conscious decision not to worry. And the fear that had been stalking her since her conversation with Tis faded away and disappeared.
That night, the Great Dance celebrating the Midsummer Night began.
At dusk, the dancers linked their hands and began to snake through the temporary village of the Gathering. Drummers were dotted throughout the Clearing, their separate rhythms combining into a complex and intricate trance beat.
Sparrow and Cloudbrother held hands tightly, and Liros held on to Cloudbrother’s other hand while Sparrow interlaced her fingers with Angheli’s. Tis and his little cousins from the Cloudwalker clan ran free through the fading light.
Sparrow surrendered to the dance, her body connected to the long chain of people, villagers, folk from different northern clans, traders from far away, all coming together into a single connected celebration.
Far above their heads, the stars began to emerge. The clouds of earlier in the day had dissipated, so the dancers below were granted an undisturbed view of the heavens.
First one, then another, then a profusion of stars dancing in the sky as the people danced below. A song rose from the people, split off and disjointed at first, then gaining cohesion and becoming a single, breathtaking melody:
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Star-Eyed!
Greet your Beloved from the Heavens!
Their song thrilled Sparrow, saturated her with happiness.
She stamped her feet in time to the rhythm of the drums and the harmony of the rising song. She loved to dance, but this dance in the night was something very different.
The whole Gathering drew together in a collective trance, a hypnotic train of consciousness. Like a keeryn, the human chain twined and twisted among the tents, the ground all but shaking under their stamping feet.
The Forest vibrated, and Sparrow sensed the consciousness of the Forest fixing on them all. She had encountered the spirit of the Forest years before, in a struggle that was one of the most terrifying of her life.
But, hidden within the human keeryn dancing in the starlight, Sparrow could face the pain of the Forest without flinching, without becoming lost in it.
She loved the Forest now, loved it as a child loves, with openness and a revealed heart. She loved it as the place where she had made her home, human habitation gathered up against the wilderness, but depending upon it too.
She reached for Abilard with her mind. She could not Mindspeak, but she sent him love and gratitude, her heartmate’s dear Companion, the one who had Chosen him for life as she had.
And Abilard responded to her search, with a soft caress inside her mind.
:No fear,: he Spoke. :Love is greater than fear.:
And as he Spoke, the truth of Abilard’s words soaked into Sparrow’s heart. The song of the dancers became a prayer of healing, and she and Cloudbrother danced the healing dance of the Midsummer Night.
Gently, almost imperceptibly, she and Cloudbrother slipped out of their bodies, and even as they kept dancing, deep in trance, they flew together above the great Midsummer Gathering, into the elemental plane above.
They danced among stars.
The Forest of Sorrows joined them.
:I’ve come to heal you,: Cloudbrother said. :Me and my brothers and sisters.:
:A dance is not enough,: the Forest insisted. :You rootless ones all dance every year. But still my pain increases.:
This time the Forest was not filled with rage or murder. But with sadness, separation, sickness. Wistfulness.
Even here, Sparrow had to speak aloud. But the effect was the same as Mindspeech, up here. Everybody could hear her fine.
“Your air and earth is ruled by pain,” she said. “But we have brought you fire and water. By these, the balance is restored.”
At this moment, the demon Zeth joined them.
This was the demon who had hunted Cloudbrother and almost killed him as a boy. It was the demon who had given the Change Adept Emptiness the power to enthrall and almost destroy Longfall. And it was the demon who had sucked the life out of the land of Iftel.
It was the demon. Tis had called him out by name.
Even now, Sparrow was free from fear. She understood now, that in the moment of the storm, fear is a luxury, an indulgence she could not afford to take.
Fear did not serve her. It was a tool of her adversary. And she was glad to let it go.
Instead, she accepted the force of the storm. And stood in the face of it.
It might well sweep her away, but fearing the possibility would not prevent it.
Tis joined them. On the plane of the elemental, the boy possessed a native power.
He and the demon stood face to face. Zeth was a creature of energy, a clot of static that ripped a hole in the place where he manifested. He looked like a man bear, a moss-covered ball of dirt, with small, cunning eyes and restlessly moving hands.
Zeth belonged to the abyssal plane, where he and his kind spawned and grew. How had he ascended to this place?
“Go home,” Tis said. “You don’t belong here. You can only harm yourself here.”
Zeth laughed. It sounded like a snarl, coming from his long, bearlike snout. “I could harm you. I could suck your life force out of your marrow and grow even more powerful.”
Sparrow wasn’t afraid, but she took a sharp breath in. Here, Tis was more powerful than her, but it was still hard to let him go, to fight.
Tis didn’t answer the demon. His keeryn joined them then.
On this plane, the keeryn loomed even larger than in Sparrow’s dream. He came across the plain of stars, and his eyes shone like stars; he was as huge as Haven.
“Zeth,” the keeryn breathed. “Go back where you came from.”
Zeth growled, snuffled. And with every bellows-like breath he took, he grew.
He grew to the size of the keeryn. And the two giants began to wrestle in the sky. They twined together, writhed like a single frenzied being. Danced their own heavenly Midsummer Dance.
The air of the demon fed the fire in the keeryn, and the earth of the demon drank the water of the keeryn. Their energies evenly matched, there was no way for the battle to be won by one side or another.
The heavens rang with their war, and Cloudbrother gathered Sparrow and Tis close to him. They combined their energy, and Sparrow sensed the raw power of her heartmate and her son, surrounding and protecting her.
From far below, the song of the dancers in the Gathering rose. And the crows broke through the clouds at their feet, circling the fighters.
They landed on Zeth’s shoulders and back and skull, and they called and pecked at him. One of the crows broke away from the melee, swooped to where the three of them stood.
He hovered in the air, his flight more like a hummingbird’s than a crow’s.
He nodded at Cloudbrother. “Sire,” he said, his voice clear and soft. “You will have to intervene.”
Cloudbrother sighed.
“Such is the way of a Herald,” he said, his voice soft and sad. “I’ve owed the debt since I was five. It’s high time I paid it, Crow. Thank you.”
And he kissed the top of Sparrow’s head.
And walked away.
Sparrow watched him go, and even now, even at this moment she had feared from the time that he had first disappeared, she was free from fear.
Because Cloudbrother walked in love, not fear.
He walked across the carpet of clouds, his hands open and outstretched. His Gift was flight, not spells. But here, Cloudbrother had the power to command.
“I send you to your home, in peace,” he said. “Zeth, farewell. Thank you for the Gifts you had bestowed on me, no matter your intentions.”
Without her heartmate to hold her in the elemental plane, Sparrow knew she did not have the Gift to stay. She held on to Tis, told him, “Be careful up here! If the keeryn tells you to get out, well, then . . .”
Before she could get the rest of her sentence out, Sparrow tumbled back to earth, to her own body.
She knew the matter was already finished.
Sparrow woke to the gentle song of bells.
Abilard stood over her. :You fainted, but somebody always does during the Midsummer Dance,: he Spoke. :It is dawn. The dance is ended.:
“Is Cloudbrother . . . gone?” she asked. The effort of speaking sent a wave of pain shooting through her body.
:No: Abilard said, but his voice, usually filled with a reassuring warmth, was full of concern for his Chosen. :He is down from the clouds now. I fear, forever. Please, comfort him. He has done a great deed, this day:
A surge of hope rose in her, and Sparrow struggled to rise. “Take me to him.”
She stood unsteadily on her feet, threw her arm over Abilard’s mighty flanks. Gently, he nuzzled her shoulder, and his soft, sweet breath brought her back to her senses.
Dawn had just come, barely displacing the dark of night. The dancers had dispersed, to their tents, to break their fast with honey cakes and morning mead.
Abilard took her to Liros’ tent. Cloudbrother was there, thank the Mother, and so was Tis.
Tis was in tears. “My little keeryn,” he said. “It broke. I’m sorry, Mama, it’s my fault.”
Tis was a great Mage in potential, but at heart he was still a little boy. He held the broken shards of jade in his hands, crying for the life force Urtho had breathed into the little figure, the life force that had gone away now.
Sparrow gathered Tis in her arms, hugged him close, stroked his straight, jet black hair until his sobs slowed. “He’s in the clouds now, watching over the Forest,” she said. “It’s all going to be fine.”
Cloudbrother rested on the same sleeping mat where Sparrow had slept. He was alive, breathing easily. A part of Sparrow couldn’t believe it.
“How are you still alive?” she asked, blurted really.
“It was the keeryn’s sacrifice,” he said. “His life restored the balance to the Forest. He and the demon are gone to the abyssal plane. And I . . .”
Sparrow waited for him to finish, held her breath in anticipation.
“I think my Gift is ended,” he said. “It was called out by the demon, I think. Without the threat of the demon, the clouds will not call me anymore. Heralds don’t really retire, but they can get new postings when their missions are done. I think I’m going to be that kind of Herald.”
Sparrow swallowed hard.
Then smiled, in gratitude.
“There are a lot worse fates than that, my heart,” she said. “We will be fine. Plenty of life to live, right here on the ground. If you were to ask Roark, this is where all the best stuff happens anyway.”
Cloudbrother sighed, relaxed back down onto the mat. “Roark is right. But part of me was made for the storm. And now the storm in the Forest is past.”
:No fear, Chosen one. Every storm must have its end. We will go to Haven, your victory will be celebrated,: Abilard said. :And we will present Tis to the Council. It is time for him to receive his training. Soon he, too, will be Chosen.: