The Hammer Unfalls

2.28 Entering and Breaking

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Lhani stretched, shucked herself into a tunic, and walked out to the table in the cold light of pre-dawn. Several villagers were already gathered, scooping porridge from a large cauldron over the fire and passing out bowls. She took one, grateful for the warmth along her hands.

More and more villagers came from their huts to the breakfast table. Arrad joined her, and mother, who ate together with her in companionable silence. Lhani pointed at the hot bowl in Arrad’s palms and waved her fingertips around to mimic falling snow. He snorted in something that resembled amusement.

“What are you two up to?” her mother asked.

“Arrad made ice yesterday.”

Lhani watched her mother’s face light up. A fundamental, feral joy suffused her face. Some unspoken anxiety lost its life in the heat of her pride. Triumph and respect emanated from her, hotter than the flame of the fire. At moment’s like these, Lahni had no trouble believing her father’s stories: mother was no one to be trifled with.

A sob caught in her mother’s throat. She spun and clasped Arrad’s shoulders, and said something in a language Lhani did not recognize.

Arrad didn’t either, apparently, but held his mother’s gaze. She touched his forehead with her own and held it there, keeping his shoulders clenched in her grasp.

Lhani moved around to get a better look, and saw tears glinting in the firelight along her mother’s cheeks.

“What did that mean, mama?” Arrad asked at last.

“It means, you have a warrior’s spirit. You have earned a place at the warrior’s table. Hiehaven doesn’t have one of those. But if it did, you’d be welcomed. I’m proud of you, son.”

Mother turned to face Lhani.

“And you. You have earned the same honor.”

Lahni felt a shiver run through her at the ferocity in her mother’s eyes. “Me? I didn’t do anything. Arrad did.”

“Warriors support one another. Family most of all. It’s time we had a talk.”

Her mother’s expression unsettled Lhani. She felt a flush of pride, but also caution. Something she didn’t understand emanated from her mother like waves of heat from a blazing fire.

Papa Tom came out with Tomyko and ruffled her hair as he passed. “Morning, hon,” he said to Lhani. He stopped and drew up sharp at the sight of her mother’s face.

“Your adopted son is gising-dirigma,” she said calmly.

Papa Tom stiffened beside Lhani, tension coiling in his shoulders.

“He has has broken ice. And this one helped. She is Æolia’s daughter now.”

Papa Tom cried out. He looked between Arrad and Lhani, eyes brimming with tears.

Gertie hustled over in concern, her skirts swishing the ground. “What’s wrong, Mayor Tom?”

Lhani’s father walked to Arrad, touched his shoulder, and stared deeply into his eyes. “I welcome you to the warrior’s table, son. I’m so proud of you. I could not help, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“I know, Papa Tom. You’re a Cinder. It’s okay.”

“And you’re an Icer.” His voice rose, shouting above the gathering crowd. “My boy is an Icer!”

The people of Hiehaven cheered, clapping Arrad on the back.

“And Tomyko is a Cinder, too!”

The villagers cheered again, and Tomyko bowed. Laughter ran through the crowd.

“Well, you’ve had a big day, I can tell!” Gertie said. “We should celebrate tonight. But I’m sure you want to be alone right now.”

“No,” her mother said, holding Lhani’s gaze. The ferocity had not left her mother’s eyes. Not even for a second.

“Gertie,” Papa Tom said. “Could you watch after our boys? Maggie and I need to do something. It can’t wait.”

“Of course, Mayor. We have plenty of harvesting yet to do. We always welcome extra hands.”

“Consider them yours,” he said. “Boys, you will follow the Gardener’s every word. Yes?”

“Yes, Papa Tom,” Lhani’s brothers said in unison.

She hardly listened. A tension clamored inside of Lhani. Like a warning, but not. She didn’t know what was happening, and it unsettled her.

“Come with me,” her mother said, taking Lhani’s hand. Her father fell in beside them.

“What’s wrong, mama?” she asked.

“Nothing! Nothing at all. Oh, Lhani. Put your mind at rest. You will see soon. It is a good day.”

They walked Lhani back to her home. A long, low cabin made from tree trunks. By Hiehaven’s standards, a palace. With a room for her parents, another for her brothers, and one for Lhani herself. Each surrounding a large sitting room with a dining table, a fireplace, and a handful of chairs. All for the comfort of the villagers, who could approach her father with their concerns. As mayor of Hiehaven, he took their words seriously. So many nights, he’d held counsel here in this very room. Comforting his grieving neighbors, or soothing their anger, or hearing their pleas. Lhani pretended not to listen, though she’d hung on every word. Her father had patience, and charm. But mother had always been the one to advise him after the visitors had left. They joked about it often. How Hiehaven was the only place in Æronthrall where he outranked her.

Lhani’s parents led her into this room and asked her to sit. She took a seat on one of the chairs, heart pounding.

Papa Tom took her hand and squeezed it. “I am here for you, Lhani. Listen to your mother now, and know our love for you.”

Lhani looked at her mother, whose expression softened. She knelt at Lhani’s feet.

“I saw you yesterday. You watched as Tomyko made his first fire. But your attention was on Arrad. You sensed what I overlooked. His shame, and unrest. You must have handled it well, for he made ice that same day.”

“I knew he was frustrated. I wanted to help him.’

“And you did. Your empathy and observation turned the day around. It is a hallmark skill of a Scryer.”

Lhani gasped.

“Yes. You outsaw even myself. Which means you have the gift of a lineage unbroken since the time of our ancestors.”

“You are able to scry, Lhani,” Papa Tom said. “There’s no mistaking it.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, finding it somewhat difficult to breathe.

Her parents looked at each other. Neither finding words sufficient to the moment.

“It means,” her mother said at last, “that you must learn what it feels like to enter another’s mind.”

Lhani’s skin tingled, as though a cold breeze had blown across it.

“Yes,” her mother continued. “It is never easy. That’s why we’re here.”

“What do you mean?”

Papa Tom took her hand. “It means the people who love you the most in all the world are here to open our minds to you.’

Lhani pulled away. Dread drenched her. She knew the theory. Two minds connecting.

The imminent reality terrified her.

“No. I don’t want to.”

Her mother sighed. “I know. But it’s going to happen. You’re going to connect with another mind. You need to experience it now. So that you can preserve your own sanity later.”

“I won’t. I will keep my mind in my own head.”

“Lhani!” her mother said sternly. “You are a Scryer. You have two choices. Join with one of us now. Or risk your own sanity when it happens at some random time in the future. The very near future, if I’m any judge.”

Lhani sat, fists clenched. The room seemed to vibrate around her. Her senses had kicked themselves into a heightened state. She saw the set of her father’s jaw, and the tension in her mother’s face. Their concern became almost palpable. Like a guitar string she could pluck. So easily. She heard people outside, going about their day. Her blood buzzed in her own ears, as if she were in and outside her own mind at the same time.

“Lhani,” her mother said. “It has already begun. Choose. Me or your father. Neither of us begrudge you your choice. Whichever of us seems most comfortable to you in this moment.”

Lhani looked between them. Her mother, mind awhirl, leaning forward. Her father, cautious and concerned, hovering like a beetle strumming its wings.

Mother had started this. Papa Tom’s light shone next to her, steady and dependable. But mother blazed, like a torch in the mist, burning away the dim. Her light crashed upon Lhani like waves.

Waves… Lhani could almost hear them.

She turned to meet her mother’s gaze. A spiral of silver light shimmered in the air between their eyes.

The world rocked gently in Lhani’s sight. She looked around. Endless white, as far as the eye could see. Both sky and… sea?

Splintered wood dug into Lhani’s cheek. The salty tang of the air filled her lungs. She leaned over the side of the raft and vomited onto a crust of ice, watching her bile steam.

Bleary, disoriented, Lhani turned her head to the side, to see her father’s concerned face.

“Drink this, Mhagi,” he said, placing a cup against her lips. He gripped her hair and tilted her head back. Lhani felt cold water trickle between her lips.

Lhani felt odd. Like her body wasn’t hers. Nor her eyes. Her ears heard, but through another’s mind.

She watched her father, and something inside herself broke. Some dam of reserve crumbled. Lhani felt tears hot on her cheeks.

He held her, warm and close. “We’ll make it, Mhagi,” he said. Even Lhani could hear the hollowness in his words.

But something stirred deep inside herself. She touched her belly. A fierce protectiveness consumed her.

“We will make it, Dirigma,” Lhani heard herself say. “Now pull yourself together and seek the current.”

Lhani summoned the wind and the raft surged forward. It answered her call with a certainty she’d never experienced before. But she felt so, so tired. She burned in mind and body, but summoned the wind once more.

Things blurred in Lhani’s mind. She looked down upon a rustic bed, drenched in sweat. Someone held her hand, and someone else pressed a cool cloth to her forehead.

“Push!” a voice said. Gertie, maybe?

And then a baby was pressed into her hands. A girl. So, so beautiful! Lhani’s breath caught in a sob and her heart swelled with love. She vowed then and there, no matter what, to love and protect this child with her own life. She’d never felt such pure joy. Such intense protectiveness. Everything that had ever passed in her life became secondary.

It is me! I am the child. I am the mother. Who am I?

Her thoughts spiraled out of control and things blurred in Lhani’s mind again. She resented this bawling puddle of flesh pressed against her breast. It slowed her down. What if the warriors of Welkin Ring caught up to them? She’d be helpless to fight. Lhani twitched, looking around for threats. Her limbs felt weak. She cursed her fate.

Lhani screamed, overwhelmed with shame. She shuddered, overcome with revulsion at herself.

Forgive this moment, her mother’s voice said inside her mind. I love you. I have always loved you. A warrior’s fears are nothing next to my love for you. See yourself as I see you.

Things blurred in Lhani’s mind a third time. She watched a baby take its first steps, babbling without words. Lhani’s heart soared. Love suffused her.

We love her, Lhani thought.

Yes, her mother’s voice said again. You mean so much to us, Lhani. You gave us hope. Without you, we’d have died on that ice. You gave us a purpose.

We? Is we us? Or mother and Papa Tom? Does my mind still exist, somewhere out there in Hiehaven?

Lhani screamed again, overwhelmed by anxiety. She sensed warriors haunting her every step. Every shadow twitched with menace. Her mind unraveled, shrieking into a sudden void.

The silvery light wavered in the cabin, bathing the walls. It darkened as Lhani closed her eyes and screamed a third time. Blind panic consumed her.

She felt arms enclosing her.

“We’re here, Lhani!”

“I have you, my girl!”

Lhani shuddered and squirmed free, flinging her fists against the air. Over and over she flung, summoning the wind to fight. The shelves in the cabin buckled. Dishes shattered and supplies flew to the sides, buffeted by a sudden gale.

“Shhhh….” her mother hissed into her ear. “Calm. Calm yourself. There’s no threat here. We are safe. You are safe.”

Lhani opened her eyes. Broken dishes and ripped bags littered the room. Beans poured onto the floor. Her parents knelt before her, eyes wide with fear.

“You are safe. We are safe,” her mother soothed her.

Lhani broke down into tears.