“S’pose I ain’t thought of that many a time?” Vomehl snapped. “You act like you be the only voice of reason in the whole wide world. Like none of us got sense the God gave a goat to figure things out.”
Doron felt sweat start on his forehead. A fight between Ferrin and Chardo could leave one of them wounded or dead. The anger he sensed between Jergen and Vomehl could also spark into violence in no time at all. He needed to do something, but he was afraid of what he could do. His witch-powers gave him a solution, but he was half afraid of using them.
Chardo struck out, nearly knifing Ferrin in the side. That settled it. Doron stood, backed off into the darkness, clamped his jaw tight, and concentrated.
The grove suddenly filled with the sound of neighing horses—many horses. Their own mounts snorted and shifted nervously. Vomehl and Jergen glanced around, their faces gone tight in fear. Distant shapes appeared off in the gloom, eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“Hell-horses!” Jergen shouted. “They be comin’ for us!”
Ferrin’s hand snaked out and grabbed Chardo’s knife hand. “Stop, you idiot! That damned horse gone and got himself friends!”
Jergen and Vomehl scrambled to their feet.
“I ain’t waitin’ around to find out!” Jergen yelled. “Stay here if’n you want!”
“Too many to shoot! Run for it!”
Chardo looked off into the night. “Oh, crap!” He sheathed his dagger and crashed off into the brush and trees, following Jergen and Vomehl.
For a long moment, Ferrin stood rooted by the fire. The sound of the approaching horses grew even louder. He aimed a kick at the bound Herald, missed, and sprinted off after Chardo.
Hidden in the brush, Doron sought to keep the illusion as real as he could possibly make it. When he could no longer hear his outlaw companions, he crept forward, circling around so he approached Tomar from behind. He drew his dagger and began sawing at the ropes binding Tomar fast.
“Your horse be waiting for you somewhere close,” he said. “You ain’t got much time. Now get out of here, Tomar. They’ll be back soon as I lower the illusion.”
The Herald’s eyes grew round as an owl’s.
“Go, dammit! I can’t keep this up forever!”
Tomar struggled to a kneeling position, sensation flooding back into his arms as the ropes fell away. The face of the man before him settled at last into recognizable features. He blinked in the firelight, not trusting what he was seeing.
“Doron?” he said, his voice cracking. “Cousin? Is that really you?”
“It be me.”
:Keesha!:
:I’m here, Chosen.:
Tomar glanced over his shoulder as his Companion edged into the clearing. Dried blood stained the utter whiteness of her neck, but aside from that she appeared untouched. He looked at Doron, who slowly backed away, unease in every move he made.
“Keesha won’t hurt you,” Tomar said. “In fact, she’s fallen in love with you.”
“What?”
“You saved me, and she thinks you’re wonderful.”
“I won’t be if’n you don’t get on that horse and leave! Ferrin and the rest of ’em won’t stay off in the woods ’til morning. And I can’t maintain my illusion forever.”
Sure enough, the sound of uncanny creatures shrilling their anger still filled the grove, only now seeming to follow the fleeing outlaws.
“But how did you escape the Fires?” Tomar asked, scrambling to his feet. He rubbed his stiff arms and ankles to get the circulation flowing again.
“Came late to my witch- powers. And managed to avoid the priests.”
Tomar threw both arms around Keesha’s neck in a brief hug, then gently traced the bloody track the arrow had left behind. “Come back to Valdemar with me, Doron. You’ll be safe there.”
Doron shook his head.
“Can’t.”
:Don’t force what cannot be,: Keesha said, her Mind-speech tinged with regret. :It’s his decision, Chosen. Maybe in the future . . . .:
Tomar retrieved his sword and dagger from where Ferrin had dropped them. He met and held Doron’s eyes.
“Aunt Chalva? Uncle Lomis? Where are they?”
His parents? Doron winced slightly. “Dead. Winter flux. Nearly died myself. Uncle Branno and Aunt Savia took me in. Tried to keep the farm goin’. Couldn’t, so they sold it. Left me with next to nothin’. Joined Ferrin and the rest when I was starvin’.” He spread his hands. “Don’t you see, Tomar? They be all I got. They be my family now. Can’t leave ’em.” He licked his lips. “Not yet, least wise.”
“But—”
“Tomar . . . please! Get out of here. I be losing my hold on the illusion. Can’t keep it going much longer!”
:He’s right,: Keesha interposed. :I’m amazed he can divide his attention like this, but his strength is weakening. You don’t want to throw away the help he’s given you, do you?:
A flood of sorrow washed over Tomar. He reached out and clasped hands with the cousin he had set off to visit in a world he had erected in his own mind, a world that could never be save in memory.
“All right. But remember this, Doron. There’s a place in Valdemar waiting for you. And for what you did . . . I can’t find enough words to thank you.” He set foot in stirrup and mounted Keesha. “If you ever tire of life as a bandit, come to Valdemar. When you get there, ask for me. They’ll find me, and I’ll do anything to get you settled in a new home.”
“Go, Tomar!”
“Promise me!” He watched Doron closely. “By the God!”
“By Vkandis Sunlord, I promise. Now get out of here!”
Tomar touched hand to forehead in a salute, reined Keesha around, and rode out of the grove. Looking back over his shoulder one last time, he saw his cousin standing by the fire, his own hand lifted in farewell.
Totally drained, Doron fell to his knees, his body feeling as though he’d been badly beaten, his mind stretched to a thinness he’d never experienced before. It had been a long time since he’d used his powers, and he was amazed he still knew how to cast and hold an illusion that strong.
The grove lay silent now. No neighing horses, no crashing in the brush and trees. Ferrin and the rest of the band would be returning before long. He stood, knees shaking, and slipped off into the darkness. Wouldn’t be good if they found him sitting by the fire as if nothing had happened.
He sat down beneath a tree, crossed arms on knees, and stared into the darkness. Tomar. The cousin he thought he’d lost all those years ago. Could be, if life proved different from what it was now, he just might take a journey north. He’d heard about Valdemar . . . how couldn’t he, living so close to the border.
Life was change.
And Tomar had given him good reason to think about a different existence. His bandit companions . . . well, they’d survive somehow. Right now, so would he, with them in place of the mother and father he’d lost.
But he had family in Valdemar. Real family.
Life was not only change, it was choices to be made.
He heard rustling in the brush and stood. Ferrin and the three others were cautiously returning to the clearing now that the “danger” had passed. He drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and slipped back into the clearing to wait for them.
Interview with a Companion
by Benjamin Ohlander
Ben Ohlander was born in South Dakota and grew up in Colorado and North Carolina. After completing high school, he enlisted in the Marines before attending college in Ohio. Upon graduation, he was commissioned as an officer in the Army Reserve. He has been mobilized three times and is currently serving in Afghanistan. In the intervals between deployments he works as a software consultant for IBM and writes as time permits. He lives in southwest Ohio with his wife, three stepsons, two cats, and a mechanical parrot named Max. The cats are generally tolerant of his writing and encourage all of their “staff” to have outside interests.