Page 2 of The Garnet Daughter
The night it first made itself known, I was so terror-stricken I folded right into her bedroom. She pleaded with me to relinquish my mental defenses so she could understand, but my escape plans for Frith dominated my thoughts and she would prevent my departure if she discovered them. If my wards were not so strongly placed, she would know every footstep I took in the forest, every voice, the roots sending her information on my intention and whereabouts. A privacy I am not willing to give up for the sake of safety again.
When I look up from tucking my hair into my hood, she is watching me, holding my eyes and waiting.
“I heard it recently, yes.” I clear my throat and walk back toward the front of our home. “But I refuse not to go in the forest, Selene?—”
“All I am asking is for you to be careful. We do not know what it is, and danger is present more than ever. Perhaps it is the mountain echoing such things to you.” She tucks a dark curl of my hair into my hood.
“I am always careful.” I muster a smile. Selene is my only family, not in blood but of spirit, and her protection is well intended. There is love between us, but I cannot stay hiding up on this mountain any longer. There is honor in collecting supplies for one’s village, but it is not for me. There has to be something greater somewhere out there in the three worlds and it’s calling me toward it.
“Alright then.” She claps her hands together. “I will see you this evening at the gathering fire.”
I nod. “Until then.”
The bright rays of the sun wash out the colors of the village momentarily as I step on the wood slats of our porch. Many people are out soaking up the warmth and preparing the fronts of their homes with brightly colored flowers and strips of fabric. I wave to our neighbor and the young child she carries wrapped at her abdomen. Her older Mother-blessed child suspends some decorations above her blonde head and giggles as I pass.
The village thrives with preparations and renewed energy since our visitors departed and a tranquil mountain life can be resumed. I walk down the nearest path, away from others’ sight line, to fold the distance without notice. So many are Mother-blessed here, from ancient Frithian lines or other worlds’ refugees, but I’ve made a habit of popping in and out just out ofview to ease the natural startle that happens when one is here and then disappears to somewhere else.
In the next step, I fold to the moss layer of the forest, the damp smell of plant life and decay heavy even in my first breath. The distance from the village path to here is covered in a blink. I’ve tried to slow the process down to see if a sort of entry point opens for me, but the closest I’ve come to viewing my gift is a blur of light and colors as the world folds to my desired spot, as instinctual and subconscious as taking a step along a familiar path.
The moss layer is teeming with life, pushed to this side of the mountain as the representatives descend on the other. The stones shield them from the forest’s defenses and deter its creatures for safe passage.
I run my thumb along the underside of a clary willow leaf and then another, searching for one with the most predominant veins to gather for a sweeter tasting tea. I pluck several, checking them for slug marks before stuffing them in my satchel. Foraging has always been my excuse to leave the village, but it is second nature and one of the few things I will miss of this world.
An animal shrieking in the darkness draws my attention, forcing me to keep moving and chasing the sun beams trickling through the dense canopy above. I find the nearest spice oak and spot a sturdy limb that can hold me and climb to it, stretching my long limbs to reach the foliage, which provides relief from sleepless nights, and I’ve had many. I cut a few of the curly leaves from their stubbornly thick stems, leaving some behind before moving down the branch and cutting some more. Only taking what I need and ones soon to be dropped by the tree itself.
I place the last of the leaves I dare to take from the branch and jump down on the moss layer, the cushion like standing on a downy pillow in some spots.
Another animalistic cry jolts me in surprise, eliciting an almost subconscious fold farther down the mountain. I land just within the mountain’s ward, looking out to a vast valley of dancing grass between this mountain and the next.
The light just outside the tree line is blinding, brighter even than the top where I came from, lacking any shade to filter the sun from beating down on the vegetation. I scan the lowlands like the formidable night predators of the forest until I catch the shape of something out of place. A smooth structure with unnatural edges and the stiff wings of a blackbird, the top adorned with a back fin.
I fold closer to it, assuming this is the Viathan skyship. I’ve never seen one stationary; my only memory is the underside of the one that brought Mary to the summit so many years ago.
I crouch, hidden within the trees and larger boulders that scatter the edges of this prairie. My heart thumps against my chest as my eyes run over the lines of the vessel which transported the representatives from one world to another. The thought of it taking me back with them is enough to make my skin break out in excited bumps.
Movement under the low-hanging ship belly elicits a quick duck behind the nearest boulder, as if I’ve been caught spying and am not here to communicate with the Viathan pilot. Shaking away my ridiculous reaction, I peek out, squinting to make out the features of the man who runs his hand down a seam of the skyship, brushing it with care. It must be August. He is the only one here, but still I feel a sense of unease from not being able to confirm as the man turns away and crawls under the ship itself.
I stand to see the strange behavior clearer. He lies on his back, tool in hand and cursing to himself. I tuck my lips between my teeth, refusing to find him amusing, and with a steady exhale, I fold the distance, crossing the high grass of the valley to the skyship.
To my side, I notice tall black sticks mounted to the ground in a line, a dotted chain of small beacons with blinking lights creating an oddly constructed fence around the vessel.
As I step past it, the light changes.
Odd.
I round the wing where I saw August working on the metal belly, but all that remains is a patch of grass flush with the ground where his body weight smashed the airy vegetation. I examine the spot and then the skyship's surface as if it swallowed him up in the time that it took me to fold here. But as I turn to investigate the other side, a strong hand grabs me, guiding me backwards until I’m pressed into the ship’s wall, the action so fast my teeth grind together. The little cushion my hood would have provided has fallen down from the too quick force. I brace my instincts to fold with every cell of my body, until my eyes focus on my captor holding me with a firm grasp.
August’s mouth turns up in a sly grin. “Hello, Calliape.”
Chapter
Two
“Hello, August.” I glance down at the Viathan gun pointed at my stomach, both him and his weapon incredibly close . . . too close. “Do you mind putting that away?”
“May I ask what you’re doing sneaking around my ship first?”
I attempt to wiggle out of his proximity, but he does not budge. “I was not sneaking around.”
