The Parallels
TWO

By the time the first challenge is over, both soldiers bear each other’s weight as they limp to the apothecary. Their challenge ended after one of them immobilized his opponent by sweeping her feet from the ground and locking her neck between his tree-trunk arms. She was nearly unconscious when Oreya finally called it. I turn my attention back to the circle just in time to hear Oreya announce the next contenders.

“Seyra,” she says surprisingly. A quiet murmur sweeps through the group as the youngest girl in our troop steps forward. Seyra is a gifted archer, but that’s where her talent ends. Give the girl a blade or better yet, no weapon at all and she crumbles like flour. I’d been training with her for a few moons every night after my watch. When it comes down to it, no one has ever challenged Seyra because of her rudimentary skills. So when Oreya announces the challenger’s name, shock stuns the crowd into silence.

“Julianne!”

The others quietly murmur as I step into the circle with lethal precision. Shock cements itself into Seyra’s features even as Oreya starts to recite the rules of a challenge. Seyra can decline, but no one ever has. If she does, she’ll be branded a coward. I knew this as I wrote her name down and dropped it into Oreya’s hand last moon. I walk to the center of the circle and extend my palm upward in a sign of goodwill and respect. Seyra hesitates just for a moment before placing her upward-facing palm in mine - challenge accepted.

Seyra quickly retreats to the opposite side of the circle, looking as if she’s about to faint. Oreya gives the order, and the challenge begins. Neither of us move for a good twenty seconds; then I start to stalk Seyra around the circle. We go around twice before she launches herself at me. She lunges for my right side, but I easily spin away from the attack and nudge her to the ground with a simple thrust of my elbow into the square of her back.

“Keep your feet under you. Don’t lock your knees,” I say while backing away from her.

The crowd stills. Seyra glares up at me then jumps to her feet. Her eyes dart around to our peers as she tightens her fists in frustration.

“Good,” I say. “Better you use anger than self-doubt when facing your enemy. Now,” I stop walking and plant my feet on the ground, “forget about them and attack me again.”

She takes a deep breath and focuses. This time, instead of rushing toward me, she sort of shuffles awkwardly to the side, nearly tripping over her feet in the process. Dust clouds rise, and soon the circle is so thick that I can barely see around me. And that’s when she strikes. She throws the full force of her body into my side. The moment her shoulder connects with my ribs she wraps her arms around my legs and pulls them toward her. I could quickly bring my elbows down onto her exposed neck, but I don’t. Instead, I let her take me down. About a month into our training, it became clear that Seyra had the prowess but lacked the conviction. She needed this win, but I needn’t make it too easy for her. Before my other side hits the ground, I counterbalance her weight and flip her onto her back. The crowd has all but disappeared behind the wall of dust we’ve kicked up. It’s just us now.

I have her pinned underneath me. “What would you do now?” I ask. She helplessly punches at my arms. “Wrong,” I say, and she stops. “You’ll waste your strength if you keep doing that and then you’ll be dead.” I ease some of my weight back toward her legs. “Now, think.” She stares fixedly at me. “What do you do?” Her body slackens. “Good,” I say.

I feel her legs press into me then feel the shift in her weight as she digs her knees into my sides and swings her hips, taking me with her. Once I hit the ground, it’s all over. She pins my arms with her right knee and digs the other knee into my neck. I’m immobilized. Seyra’s won. The cloud of dust settles, and Oreya steps into the challenge circle. She looks down at Seyra’s panting figure and then at my face that’s smashed into the ground. A smile tugs on the corner of her lips as I stare up at her.

“Victory,” Oreya pauses as twenty eager faces emerge from the dust, “to Seyra!”

The group erupts into an ear-shattering cheer. Seyra rises shakily to her feet, looking stunned that she’s won. I flip onto my back and smile up at her. She extends her hand to me as others gather around. A few look at her differently, as if they’re seeing her for the first time. I slink out of the crowd and replace Laurel hanging back.

She appraises me with a smirk on her face. “You do realize that you lost your opportunity to face Erique again and win.” She slaps my arm, and a plume of dust erupts from my tunic. “I doubt Challenge Day exists in Northpoint.”

I turn back and replace Seyra beaming with pride as the challenge ring is redrawn. “It was worth it,” I shrug, slapping at my pants. “She needed to feel strong; maybe now she’ll begin to believe she is.”

“Excellent, Jules.” Oreya clamps her hand on my shoulder. “Erique tells me you’ve been helping others as well.” I glance past her to the countless others who’d sat in on my training sessions with Seyra.

My gaze falls back to Oreya. “Ay, Commander.”

Oreya smiles slightly. “Good.” She returns to her place just outside the circle and calls out the next name.

The sun settles low on the horizon by the time the final challenge is over.

“Well,” says Laurel, pulling her cloak around her shoulders, “did you have a good birthday?” A couple of the soldiers eye us as they pass. I roll my eyes and start toward the artillery hut along with the rest of our troop.

“In that nothing happened, and it felt like another day?” I link my arm with hers, thankful for the momentary warmth. “Then yes, I did.” Laurel laughs and squeezes my hand.

Laurel leans in and whispers, “sorry about this then.”

I’m about to ask her what she means until we round the corner. A small group of familiar faces gathers around a roaring fire. I lock eyes with Rhian first, who’s wearing a delighted expression. Levain spots me next and lets out a celebratory hoorah, causing the others to spin around and start cheering as well. Veda comes bounding up to me, drink in tow.

“Happy Birthday!” she exclaims, pulling me into the crowd. I quickly gulp the honey mead. Laurel’s joined a few of the soldiers who have already found the banquet table full of food. I’m on my own in a mob of well-wishers ranging from the elders we’d seen early at the apothecary to the youngest of Qyis’ inhabitants.

“Another year come and gone!” Silas stands atop a stump overlooking the crowd. He extends his hand to me, and I replace a place by his side. Most of the village surrounds us save for the Elder Council who are likely meeting given our approaching migration. “May the Mire bless the coming days of Julianne’s journey.” A murmur of agreement trickles through the crowd. “In these dark times, let us replace comfort in our kin.” He raises his cup. Silas draws a ring around his heart. In unison, everyone traces a circle around their hearts then raise one hand toward the sky and one toward the ground.

“Julianne,” he says directly to me, “may the Mire bear you blessings of good fortune and love.”

The crowd repeats these word as they each bring their hands together and open both palms in my direction, sending me their light. I’m overwhelmed with emotion, and bow my head slightly accepting their good fortune for the year to come. The crowd erupts in a cacophony of cheers, and the music continues. I’m about the join Laurel and Veda who have yet to move from the banquet table, but Silas intercepts me.

“Darling girl,” he says taking my hands in his own. “I can scarcely believe another year has come and gone.”

“Never thought I’d make it?” I ask teasingly.

He smiles. “Between you and me, I never thought Oreya would make it.”

We both laugh and even harder still as we replace Oreya in the crowd standing stoically despite the camaraderie around her. Silas turns back to me, this time his face considerably less jovial.

“May the Mire bless you, Jules. May magic protect you and the strength of the Parallels support every step you take.”

He squeezes my hands and draws me into a hug. Someone clears their voice behind us, and we turn to replace Levain expectantly waiting with her hand outstretched.

“It’s about time you ask me to dance,” she says to Silas.

“With the loveliest woman in Lanel?” He takes her hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

They effortlessly spin into the rotating figures that glide along with the rhythm. I watch them for a time, laughing and smiling. The whole village seems less burdened tonight as if we all needed a reason to release the long breath we’d been holding.

Silas and Levain seamlessly transition into the next song which is considerably slower. Several couples bow out of the dance circle just as someone grabs my hand and pulls me into it. Rhian wraps his hand around my waist and sets the other on his chest as we fall into an easy two-step.

“Having fun?” His boyish smile touches his ears.

“I don’t suppose you had anything to do with tonight?” I ask before he spins me away then pulls me back into him.

“I can’t confirm or deny anything.” He says with effortless charm.

More than a few watch us from the outskirts of the dancing circle. Rhian has just as many admirers as Veda, who is presently surrounded by a group of them. Rhian follows my gaze and scowls.

“You’d think they’d take a hint,” he says, and he’s right.

Veda’s attention is clearly drawn to the forest as if she’s searching for someone.

I laugh again. “You’ll have to get used to…” a sharp flash of heat stops me mid-sentence. I clench the spot where the necklace lies and hastily pry it from my skin.

“Jules?” Rhian’s touch feels like lightning.

I stumble backward but he catches me, and again, I’m jolted with a wave of sparks. I shake myself loose of his grip. Fearing I’ll be sick in front of everyone, I weave my way through the crowd and out of the corner of my eye recognize the swift movements of Laurel and Veda who are following our retreat. Only when we reach the quiet solitude of the forest that I stop running. The dull hum of magic lingers near my ankles like a swarm of bees. Rhian goes to touch my arm, but I hold up my hands in protest.

“Just give me a moment,” I plea.

Laurel and Veda come running to us. “Are you ok?” Laurel says, grasping my arm.

The lightning strikes again carrying with it a multitude of emotions that are not my own. Despite the pain, I stare at her in disbelief before shaking away her hand. The feelings disappear as soon as she stops touching me.

“Jules, say something,” Rhian reaches for me again, but I step back. “You’re freaking us out.” He keeps his distance.

The heat coming off the necklace subsides, and I drop my shaking hands to my sides.

“Emotions,” I mutter to myself trying to make sense of it all. I close my eyes against the rocking world around me. “I could feel your emotions!” I open my eyes. All three of them of them stare at me in disbelief.

“Are you sure?” Veda asks doubtfully.

I shake my head so sure of what I had felt and even more sure that none of it came from me. The necklace still warms my skin beneath my tunic, but the heat is no longer unbearable.

“I don’t know.” I look at Rhian. Their concerned stares stop me from saying more. I’d worried each of them enough with my nightmares, and now I believed that I felt their emotions. I shake my head again and place my hand on the trunk of the tree. “It must have been the mead. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning. I think I’m just famished.” I say lightly.

Veda breathes deeply. “Well, in that case, I’ll fix you a plate.” And with that, she trots off toward the banquet table.

“Everything okay, Julianne?” Oreya approaches from the woods behind us.

“Ay,” I say crossing my hand over my chest.

“Elder Merrin asked me to replace you, Rhian. He asks that you report to council.” Oreya smiles down at us.

“Of course.” He glances back at me. “See you later?”

I nod, and he runs to catch up with Veda. Laurel and I turn our attention back to Oreya, but my gaze lands just to her right where Erique is sprinting from the woods. He’s panting when he reaches us.

“The Herrings have been seen on the edge of the Western veil!” he says.

Oreya’s reaction is instantaneous. She whistles so loudly that I cover my ears against its trill pitch. The music stops immediately as my fellow soldiers form ranks in front of us. “Theo, Oz, and Seyra—West Watch.” Her words are clipped. Behind them, the villagers hustle away from the party frantically. “Vel, Marcus, Terin, and Laurel—East Watch.” Laurel flashes me a concerned look before dashing into the forest. “The rest of you are with Lieutenant Ashborn.” I turn to leave, but Oreya calls out my name. “Julianne.” I face her. “You’re with me.”

I’m too stunned to move, but Oreya doesn’t wait for me to reconcile my thoughts. She’s ten paces ahead before I have taken one step.

I quickly bridge the gap between us with a few long strides and pump my legs to match her speed. The western border lies a few miles from our village, but the Herrings have never been this close.

“We are briefing the elder council,” she says grimly. I grip my hands tightly on the dagger hilts resting on my belt, hoping to subdue the nausea that quakes in my stomach. Before we reach the doorway, she pauses. “You’ve demonstrated an aptitude for teaching and leading, one that has not gone unnoticed. And while you still must learn to reign in your tongue at times,” she pauses, “overall you’re one of my best soldiers. The others respect you.” I raise my eyebrow, doubting that Erique shares her opinion. To my surprise, she says, “Lieutenant Ashborn has recommended your appointment as Second Lieutenant.”

I bite my tongue to keep my jaw from dropping as we enter the Elders’ quarters. The Elders live in the small grouping of intact homes surrounded by piles of ash from the rest of the village that burned during the last Herring raid. Rhian said it was probably some enchantment placed on them that prevented them from burning.

We enter to the sound of murmured voices. The council itself consists of four mage elders and their mage apprentices. Rhian is an apprentice to his father, Elder Merrin; both are emotionalists. They sit at the center of the half-moon table and on either side sit our veilers and their apprentices. The last four seats belong to the elementalists and their apprentices. Oreya and I stand at the center of the room.

Elder Merrin breaks the silence. “Report, Commander.”

Oreya commands the floor. “Herrings have been spotted near the Western borders.” There are a few gasps and murmurs among the council but Elder Merrin raises his hand, and they fall silent.

“How long?” If he shares his council’s astonishment, it does not show. As an advanced emotionalist, he’s as stoic as a rock, something that Rhian would have to learn if he’s ever to take his father’s place on Council.

“Less than a day,” she says plainly.

“What do you advise?” Elder Merrin asks calmly.

She surveys the whole council before speaking. “Immediate mobilization of the village tonight.”

Underneath my soldier’s facade, I’m restraining another part of me laden with fear. Oreya’s protected our village since the Breaking and the council, we all have the utmost respect for her, but suggesting an immediate mobilization seems impossible. She steps forward, close enough to touch Elder Merrin. “Something compels the Herrings.” She takes a step closer. “Something I’ve seen only once before.”

Oreya’s never spoken of her life before the Breaking or the time after that. She places her hand atop Elder Merrin and a next to silent buzz of magic fills the air. An emotionalist must physically touch another to sense and influence their emotions. I’ve often wondered if distance limits all emotionalists, but the only ones I’ve ever known are seated before me.

The severity of Oreya’s emotions breaks Elder Merrin’s composure. His eyes widen in horror for just a moment, but it’s long enough to cause a noticeable unease in the rest of the council. Oreya holds his gaze until he finally blinks and composes himself once again. She returns to my side.

“Elders, yea or nay?” Elder Merrin’s voice is a whisper but there is no hesitation as the elders unanimously vote to leave tonight. “Elder Endlet, Elder Geyton,” he addresses the veilers, “please ensure the strength of our veils. We’ll depart at high moon and head east along Ber Road until we reach Fewth Falls.” The veilers exchange furtive glances before rising and shuffling out. He turns to Elder Rilar. “It’s time for a rainstorm. Don’t you agree, my friend?”

Elder Rilar looks to her apprentice, whose eyes are sheer lightning. Thunder growls overhead as rain begins to spatter across the rooftop. They rarely have an opportunity to harness the full extent of their powers, which means we’ll be virtually invisible in the upcoming downpour—wet and cold, but invisible.

Elder Merrin continues. “Rhian, please notify the village and try to alleviate any unhelpful emotions,” he says. “Gather some of Oreya’s soldiers to help you. Tell our people to pack what they can carry.”

Rhian rises from the table but pauses at the doorway behind his father, waiting to see why I am at Oreya’s side.

“A small group will accompany our people along Ber Road,” Oreya begins. “I will scout the route ahead.” She pauses.

“A final group of five will serve as a decoy, leading the Herrings south to Cress Hills then onto the Voiceless Road.

They will then connect with us on Fewth Path. Lieutenant Ashborn and Second Lieutenant Marner will lead this group.” She looks at me, her expression unreadable.

Before Rhian slips out, I lock eyes with him. I don’t have to be an emotionalist to know what he feels because I feel it too: fear.