Maya's Song: The Pedagogue Chronicles: Book I Read online

  What the . . . why would he be here?

  Eyes fierce, Maya almost upset the bucket of milk as she stood and moved around the cow. With a soft, “Rory,” the dog quieted and sat patiently by her side, tongue out, looking from her to the man. “What are you doing here? You’re not welcome here.” Her stance stiff, hands in fists, Maya tried to ignore the increase in her breathing and the flush that heated her cheeks. She’d never had these feelings before. And for Teck? Her body’s betrayal was unacceptable.

  As he moved toward her out of the shadows, she noticed he had his hands behind his back, and in the bright light of the late afternoon sun, his blush was obvious. “I made something for you. For your Names Day.”

  She didn’t respond. Her curiosity was roused; it wasn’t often she received a present. A step or two more and he was just on the other side of the corral post. He hesitated now as if afraid. She wondered how that could be. She didn’t know him well even though they grew up in the same area, but everything she knew pointed to him being an indulged and arrogant, but well-liked, young man. She was sure he’d never wanted for anything.

  She remembered all the times he’d picked and pulled at her while they were growing up and had a moment of clarity. He’d seemed so pleased to have her attention. It annoyed her, but now she wondered if he just wanted her attention the way children go about getting it. Maybe that was his aim all along. This thought sent a rush of blood to her cheeks, and she looked at Teck more closely.

  Heaving a deep sigh, Teck pulled a bow and quiver from behind his back. The quiver was full of arrows with newly created fletching, bright with color. The bow was a thing of beauty, etched with swirls and carved with realistic leaves.

  Maya’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh, her body relaxing. “You made this?” she asked, taking a small step toward the offering. Her hands were itching to touch it, to run her fingers over the fine wood and carvings on it. He gave a small nod, watching her intently. “You made it for me?” Unable to resist any longer, she ran a finger softly over the surface. With a shift, Teck slid the bow and quiver through the fence, thrusting it at her.

  “Here, take it,” he said roughly.

  At his tone, Maya looked up from the bow into Teck’s eyes. When their gazes locked, he dropped his and intently studied the ground. A small smile curved her lips as she watched him, enjoying his discomfort. She felt in control, something she lost every time he towered over her, and now that power moved through her. As she reached to take the bow and quiver, she lightly trailed a finger over the clench of his hand. His gaze flashed back to hers and he released the bow so fast, if not for her quick reflexes, it would have ended up in the dirt on the corral floor.

  With a quick step back, Teck watched her. She swung the quiver full of arrows across her body along her back and, with expertise gained from long practice, stepped on the lower limb of the bow to pull the string and rest it in the string nock. After a nimble step back, she quickly brought the bow up to shoulder height and drew the string. Knuckles on her cheek, the other arm outstretched. Time stopped, then she slowly released the tension in the string. Maya turned to Teck to give him her thanks for such a fine gift when her mother’s voice stopped her.

  “Teck?”

  They turned to see her mother coming toward them.

  “Ma’am.” Teck dropped his head in greeting and moved a pace from the corral.

  With a quick look from him to Maya, her mother said, “You’re just in time for last meal. Please stay and help us begin our celebration of Maya’s Names Day.”

  “Mother―” Maya began uncomfortably, but Teck talked over her.

  “I’d love to.” Maya’s mother took Teck’s arm and walked toward the cabin.

  “Mother,” Maya muttered under her breath. She shook her head in disbelief when her attention was again captured by the bow in her hands. She reached back and pulled an arrow from the quiver to examine it. The fletching was soft with flecks of red, perhaps from the belly feathers of a sparkling swallow. The shaft was straight and strong, and the arrow had been finished with a metal tip. Long hours went into its construction. Why, she wondered. What does he want? When Maya’s stomach grumbled, she decided to put aside her questions for now. She grabbed the bucket of milk before following her mother and Teck into the cabin.

  The first thing Maya noticed when she entered the cabin was the wonderful smell of simmering vegetables and freshly cooked fish. No one cooked like her mother. The fish, after it had been cleaned and stuffed, had its skin sewn together with twine to hold herbs inside. Maya knew there were freshly made biscuits in the warming pan to the side of the fireplace. If it wasn’t for Teck’s presence, this would be a perfect meal.

  “Maya, put your gift away and set the table for last meal.” Moving from Maya to Teck, her mother looked up at him. “Would you like to sit, Teck? I bet you’d like a mug of cool water.” When he nodded in agreement and took a seat at the small table, Maya’s mother continued in her chosen job as hostess. “Please, Teck. Tell us about the present you brought Maya. I had no idea you were so talented.”

  Maya moved into the room, sparing a glance at her old bow propped by the door. She walked to the other side of the cabin and reverently laid the new bow and quiver down safely in the corner. With a roll of her eyes for her mother’s attempts at conversation, she got three of the mismatched plates and cups and three eating utensils.

  As her mother talked, she moved the pan with the fish and set it in a place of honor in the center of the table. Maya placed the biscuits in a basket, then this too went to the table, along with a small crock of homespun butter.

  Setting the table was an exercise of control for Maya. She felt Teck’s eyes follow her every move as she shifted around him. Why had her mother invited him to their meal? Shouldn’t he be heading home? Walking through the forest after dark could be dangerous.

  “Maya, come sit and visit with our guest.”

  As Maya took her seat, she paused midway, hovering over her chair, her gaze fixated on the dog. Allowing herself to drop into the seat, she stared at Rory, who was sitting by Teck’s chair. Teck absentmindedly pet the dog’s head, and it was obvious Rory was loving it. His eyes were closed, and his tail made a small swooshing sound as it moved on the floor. Traitor, she thought and threw a dirty look at the man and dog. Rory looked sideways at her in that ashamed, distinctive dog way but didn’t move away from Teck or his large caressing hand.

  Maya’s mother sat at the table and passed the dishes around. “So . . . the bow and quiver? You made it specifically for Maya?”

  Even in the dimly lit room, Maya could see his skin flush red. “Yes, ma’am. For her Names Day.”

  “Please, Teck. You’re eating at our table. You can call me by my given name.”

  The embarrassment was obvious on his face as he looked from Maya to her mother. Taking pity on him, the older woman said, “Sylvan. My name is Sylvan.”

  “Sylvan.” With a small nod of understanding, he continued. “Yes . . . Sylvan . . . I made it for her Names Day.”

  They continued to talk, but Maya gave her attention to the meal. Finish it and get rid of him, was all she could think. The cabin was her haven, next only to the deep forest, and she didn’t want him here. The feelings he aroused in her were confusing.

  SOON, THOUGH NOT SOON ENOUGH, the meal was finished. Teck jumped up to help Sylvan clear the table, but she stopped him. “Why don’t you and Maya step outside. Maybe take a stroll, and she can show you her garden.”

  “Mother . . .” Maya couldn’t believe her mother was throwing her at him like this. What was she? A burden on her or something?

  “Go now and quit your complaining.”

  As Maya and Teck left the cabin, Rory gave an excited yelp and ran after a rabbit in the evening light. The sun was dipping quickly now, and soon it would be totally black except for the light of a full moon rising from the mountain. With her eye on the dog, Maya muttered, “Well . . . thank you for the gift. It really is
beautiful.”

  * * * * *

  TECK WATCHED HER, BUT SHE wouldn’t lift her face to look at him. With a firm grasp on his courage, he reached out to run his hand down her arm to her hand. Her skin was warm and soft. As before, it was almost as if a bolt of lightning were moving through him when he touched her.

  When she didn’t shy away from him, he kept her hand in his and turned them toward the path to town. Teck liked the sensation of walking with Maya at his side. He had always liked her, though he’d never been good at showing his feelings and would pick on her just to have her attention. Now, however, he was a man, and tomorrow, Maya became a woman. The days of picking and irritating her were at an end. They walked in silence, hand in hand along the bank of a lake to the edge of the meadow where Maya lived. Reaching the tree line, Teck turned toward her, and this time, she met his gaze.

  “You’re welcome, Maya,” he whispered. Reluctantly, he released her hand but, with a smile of satisfaction, turned toward town. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Rory ran along with him for a bit, but at Maya’s whistle, the dog headed back.

  3

  CALEB STARED AT THE WORLD below. It was one of many. Just another contest to fill the long days of his and Cassandra’s lives.

  He realized, as he watched the pretty blue and green orb, that he was tired.

  For the longest time, almost past his memory, he’d allowed his sister to win their contests. He wanted her happy. Wanted her to love him as she used to when they were children.

  With a sigh, he moved away from this view. Perhaps for the first time, he was seeing, she was a different person. The sister he remembered, that beloved sibling, was long gone. Now, she lived only for the power. Each time she consumed a world, turning it black and cold, she became more powerful. The life forces and the magics filled her until she craved it all the more.

  Maybe it was time he stopped this farce. Stopped sacrificing world after world to his sister’s need.

  Pacing, his thoughts spun.

  When he passed the pedestal with the ancient tome resting on it, he paused. All worlds had prophecies. Predictions for the outcomes of change. It was this world’s prophecy that he and Cassandra battled over.

  She scoffed.

  He believed.

  With a step he neared the book. Old and worn, it had seen many a millennium come and go. Caleb gave a wave of his hand and the book’s pages flipped, the sound of them feather-light in the room. When they stopped, he looked down to once again read the words.

  In a time of strife, in a world of fear,

  age will come for three of the blood.

  When the core is joined,

  Three and Three become One,

  and darkness will be consumed by light.

  A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth and he pulled a hand from within the folds of his cloak, opening it to reveal three stones. Each was a different color—blue, green and ivory—and each was etched with a different symbol. He knew them to be powerful, ancient magic. This magic could be used to influence his win. Just this once, he could break the rules, help where needed. The stones could be the beginning of this help.

  Rolling the stones with his thumb, he planned. This world, he knew, was different. Magic still moved through the blood of certain family lines.

  He and Cassandra both knew of whom the prophecy spoke. If he could lay the work, push them the right way, he could see this world’s prophecy true.

  It would take finesse.

  In the perfect moment, they would need the Three to join—to become One. Only then could the prophecy be fulfilled, and Cassandra stopped.

  4

  THE AIR IN THE CABIN was warm and comforting and smelled faintly of the cake that had been baked earlier in the evening. The fire was banked, and glowing embers provided a filtered light that fell gently upon the two sleeping women. The homey image was ruined when Maya issued a moan, which broke the silence of the room. The dog pricked his ears. With a whine, he moved to the edge of the mattress to watch her. She jerked and gave a startled cry before lurching upright on the bed. Alarmed, the dog jumped back.

  Maya looked blindly around the room. She didn’t realize where she was at first. Her chest heaved, and a layer of sweat stuck her nightgown to her back. The dog caught her eye and she placed a shaking hand on his head. The connection gave them both comfort, and the canine leaned into her leg, offering what relief he could. Maya glanced from the dog back to the remnants of the fire, and then behind her to check on her mother. Sylvan slept soundly, unaffected by the nightmare that woke her daughter. Lying down a bit stiffly, Maya continued to caress Rory’s head and with measured, deep breaths, calmed her nerves.

  The dream was fading from her memory, leaving just an impression. An atmosphere of expectation. It had her edgy upon waking. There was a man in her dream—that much she remembered. The man and then the light. A blinding light, but one that didn’t burn. When she woke, it all seemed so important, and now as it evaporated, so did the urgency.

  She sat upright again, placing her bare feet on the floor. The cold planks robbed what little heat resided in her feet. Stomping gently, she stood and walked quickly across the floor. With a poker, she stirred the embers and placed a log on them, watching the fire eagerly find the new fuel. Hypnotized, the dream drifted further and further away.

  “Ah, Rory.” At his name, the canine stepped to her and bumped her elbow with his head. “You’re a good boy.” She gave him a small pat. Thoughts of the dream filling her head, she turned from him to wander across the room. She thought if she could just remember what was said, then she could act. What act was necessary, she didn’t know, but her mind and body were poised—sitting on the precipice of a need, of a forward motion. The harder she tried to capture the dream, the further it drifted from her thoughts. As her eyes swept the room looking for hidden answers, her sight was caught by the gift from Teck. Nearing it, she ran her fingers over the intricate woodworking that he had so painstakingly created. Teck continued to confuse her. She was old enough to know what he wanted, but she couldn’t fully understand why he wanted her. She didn’t even think he liked her until today. And this line of thought wasn’t helping her to get back to sleep. Unable to grasp the intensity of the emotion she felt, Maya yawned and headed back to bed. Under the covers, with the fire flickering in the room and the dog breathing heavily on the floor below her, Maya once again drifted off to sleep.

  * * * * *

  THE MAN’S EYES OPENED WITH the first stirrings of magic. The feeling of it, even the scent of it, woke something buried within him. Taking a deep breath, he held the essence in his lungs, savoring it. So long had he waited for her to be revealed. He didn’t know why the shroud was removed, and not caring, he expelled his breath.

  “Orson,” he bellowed. The echo of his call had yet to dispel when the chamber door was thrust open and a small, ugly man rushed in, nearly tripping over his own feet.

  “Yes, my master,” he muttered, prostrate at the edge of the bed.

  The night was chilly, the dwindling fire no longer heating the room. The man in the bed didn’t notice as he pushed the covers back and swung his legs to sit upright on the mattress. Memories from his childhood spun through his mind. Images of Sylvan as a young girl, the old remembered desire—both for her and her power.

  “She’s been unveiled.”

  The small man hustled backward to avoid being trod upon when his master strode through the room, pacing back and forth. Jumping to his feet, Orson grabbed a night jacket and held it open for his master, offering it even though the man ignored him. When his master still ignored the offered jacket, he slipped by and stirred the embers of the fire, tossing in logs to warm the room.

  “Get my clothes,” the master barked, causing Orson to hustle into the wardrobe and begin pulling items out. Continuing to pace, the master rubbed his hands together, his face breaking into a large, toothy smile. “Finally. After almost two decades, Sylvan will be mine.”

 
5

  MAYA’S NAMES DAY BLOOMED BRIGHT, sunny, and warm, and she couldn’t wait to get into the woods. Part of the food she and her mother ate came from traps Maya laid each night and checked each morning. The act of moving through the forest, being a part of it and one with the plants, centered her mind and spirit. Today was no different. She’d woken with a light ache in her head and the feeling of having not slept well. She knew she’d been up once due to a dream but now couldn’t recall what it was about.

  “Yes, Mother!” she yelled back hastily to Sylvan’s warning to be careful, and then she and the dog disappeared out the door. Shaking off the feeling of a night ill-spent, she stopped partway across the clearing to tilt her head back and feel the warm sun on her face. Today she was dressed in shades of brown. The homespun cloth of her pants, a coarse long-sleeve shirt, and vest were crafted with her mother’s loving, capable hands. She had a burlap bag to help transport game home, and on her hip was a hunting knife. Today, she’d opted to leave her bow at home since it wouldn’t be necessary for trap checking. Her fingers itched with the need to try out the new bow, but just as strong was her desire not to be unduly influenced by Teck and his present. With a stubborn lift of her chin, she’d turned her back on it and walked out of the cabin.

  Rory yipped happily as he ran ahead of her as if calling, “Hurry up! Hurry up!” She looked at him and, with a small laugh, followed into the shadow of the forest. Small animals scurried out of their way, and irritated birds called overhead, but Maya just laughed at them all. It was the perfect day. Her perfect day.

  AFTER CHECKING HER TRAPS AND coming up with three fat, young hares for their next few meals, Maya swung by her favorite spot near Edelberry Creek. A dense covering of clover and wildflowers blanketed the bank. It was like this every spring, and Maya loved to take advantage of the natural bedding. It was a magical spot for a young girl to dream away the hours, braiding flowers into her flaming locks or making collars from tree sprigs for Rory. Today was no exception. Dropping down close to the water’s edge, Maya laid the burlap sack in the shade of an old oak tree where the rabbits would keep in the cool. Near her, Rory rolled in the fragrant blossoms, grunting and sneezing as the pollen irritated his nose. The sun was bright, and the air smelled heavily of flowers crushed under Rory’s weight.