The Apparition
K arigan lay in snow. She shivered as much from the cold as shock.
Above, the constellations burned bright and sharp in the tapestry of the heavens and seemed close enough to touch.
Especially that of Salvistar. Thinking of him reminded her of his heart.
She’d glimpsed it flung with her from the gray world, but did not see it anywhere around her.
She wondered where it had gotten to, then decided her more immediate concern should be where she had ended up.
Wilderness surrounded her with no sign of candlelit windows, or chimney smoke wafting in the air, or the sounds of humans, just the moan of wind through trees and, in the distance, the hooting of owls in conversation.
It felt like Sacoridia, but the question was, where in Sacoridia? Her body spasmed with even harder shivers. She needed shelter, a fire, to move her body. Something. The pain of simply breathing made it so hard. She curled into a ball, trying to gather the strength and courage to move.
An object shimmered in the snow beside her—Telagioth’s smallsword. She reached for it but screamed for she’d automatically used her broken arm. Her wrist and hand flopped so grotesquely she wanted to vomit.
Must splint.
She splinted her arm with the sword and her belt, loosely wrapping her belt around her forearm and gritting her teeth the whole time.
Something about the sword heartened her, easing the process, perhaps its beauty in the glimmering starlight or some ethereal quality of the Elt Wood forged into it.
However, when she tightened the belt, the surge of pain sent her screaming into a black abyss.
· · ·
She opened crusted eyes and startled some creature, or creatures, into the underbrush. Animals drawn by the scent of blood should have alarmed her more than it did, but pain muddled her thinking.
She continued to tend her arm by making a sling out of her scarf. The sword proved an awkward splint, but at least it wasn’t a longsword. Her hand rested on the hilt and the tip jutted beyond her elbow. She hoped she didn’t end up accidentally stabbing herself.
She needed to get on her feet, start walking, try to find civilization, but she couldn’t make herself.
Numbed by the cold and hurting, she just wanted to rest, to sleep.
Even the rustling in the underbrush, the almost imperceptible step of paws in the snow drawing closer, was not enough to make her rise.
“Get up, girl,” said a familiar voice. “This is not the time to be lying about.”
A woman, translucent in form, stood over her.
“Aunt Stace?”
“Get up. There’s no use feeding yourself to the wolves.”
“Is it really you?” Karigan asked.
“Get up, Kari.”
She recalled many a cold winter morning when Aunt Stace would prod her to get out of bed to start the day.
“Get up, Kari, a new day has begun and you don’t want to miss it.
” She flashed back to huddling beneath the warmth of her blankets and the tempting aromas of breakfast drifting into her chamber, and of Aunt Stace at the hearth stirring the embers of the fire to warm the room.
Grief caught in Karigan’s throat. This was not one of those mornings, and now she dreamed, or imagined, the apparition of her dead aunt standing over her.
Aunt Stace looked off into the distance to an unseen world beyond the sight of the living. When she glanced down at Karigan, her eyes were like the sparkle of stars. “You must get on your feet.”
Wolves howled.
“You left us. You left me! ” Sorrow had turned to anger and Karigan’s tone was edged with accusation. Aunt Stace vanished. “Wait!” Karigan cried. “I’m sorry—please come back!”
“I have not left you, Kari girl,” Aunt Stace said. Her luminous figure reappeared among the trees in the distance.
“I miss you,” Karigan whispered.
“I know.”
“Why did you have to leave?”
“Eventually we all must, child. It is the way of the universe. Even gods may fade and pass. It was my time, but it is not yours. Now come along.”
Karigan did not move. “No.”
“You are as stubborn as your father.” Aunt Stace walked away through the woods.
“Don’t leave me again,” Karigan said in a quavering voice, but Aunt Stace did not answer.
Numb, shivering, and exhausted, but not willing to be left behind, Karigan staggered to her feet, jolting her arm in the process, which ignited fire through her various hurts, and she stumbled after Aunt Stace.
She slipped and slid on the uncertain terrain hidden beneath the snow.
She was semi-aware of feral eyes watching, of being stalked, but the wolves did not attack.
“Don’t fall behind,” Aunt Stace called back to her.
No matter how Karigan tried to catch up, Aunt Stace was always well ahead. Karigan forced herself to pick up her pace, but it still was not good enough.
She tripped over a branch concealed beneath the snow, fell, and slid down a hill jostling her injured arm. When she came to a stop, she shook her head and groaned. Her makeshift splint had shifted. With a cry, she adjusted it and tightened the belt further.
Aunt Stace stood before her, gazing into the heavens.
“Are you real?” Karigan whispered. “Or, am I imagining you?”
“He is young and confused,” Aunt Stace murmured, “and so inexperienced.”
“Who?” Karigan demanded.
Aunt Stace’s gaze dropped to Karigan. “Do get up, Kari. You must keep moving.”
“I don’t want to. I am so tired.”
“Often we must do what we’d rather not wish to do.”
Karigan wanted to sob like an overtired child but hadn’t the energy. “Why do these things happen to me?”
Aunt Stace’s translucence made her expression difficult to read.
“Oh, my dear child, the gods have burdened you. You carry the weight of the world. If I could lift it from your shoulders, I would, but you are not entirely a victim of fate. We are all complicit in the course our lives take. You are who you are, and you must carry on.”
“I don’t think I can.”
Wolves howled, some close, others farther away.
“We have not the time for this,” Aunt Stace said. “You must get back on your feet.”
“I want to rest. I’m tired, tired of everything and having to carry on. It’s all I do. Carry on. Just for once, I’d like to rest.”
Aunt Stace placed her hands on her hips.
“Karigan Helgadorf G’ladheon, if only you could hear yourself.
Yes, much has been placed on your shoulders, but you are not the only one.
Over the span of all humankind, many have carried burdens as heavy, or heavier.
Now is not the time to wallow. You are better than that. ” Suddenly she whirled. “Shoo!”
The wolf that had crept close must have sensed the apparition’s presence for it yiped and slunk away.
“G’ladheons do not quit,” Aunt Stace continued. “We do what we must, and time is running out.” She started to ascend the hill, leaving no footprints in the snow, and did not wait to see if Karigan followed.
Karigan marshalled any strength remaining to her and climbed to her feet. She trudged up the hill, trudged forever, so it seemed, unaware of her surroundings, and only peripherally aware of the wolves tailing her. Aunt Stace was like the flash of a beacon, always ahead, always drawing her forward.
“I wish you could move faster,” Aunt Stace said. “My time with you is short, and your time may be short, as well.”
“You can’t leave me,” Karigan said. “Not again.” Then more hopefully, “You could take me with you.”
Did Aunt Stace look sad?
“You are not thinking straight, dear girl. I do not belong here, and you do not belong there. Not yet.”
Now Karigan sobbed. First her mother had left her, then her father had deserted her to go to Varos, and now Aunt Stace was going to abandon her for the second time.
The walk and cold had taken their toll. Karigan only inched ahead, beyond numb, and she did not care. She simply wished to rest and forget.
“Please,” Aunt Stace said, “keep moving.”
Karigan dropped to her knees. “I can’t.”
“You must.”
“You are not real.”
“That is no way to speak to your aunt.”
“Take me with you when you go.” Karigan toppled to her side and folded into herself.
“Karigan Helgadorf—”
Karigan allowed peace to blanket her.
“Damnation,” Aunt Stace muttered.
Had Karigan ever heard her use foul language?
She turned deaf to all else, to the cajoling, pleading, demands, and orders.
She heard something about wolves growing bolder, and what would King Zachary do without her?
They were mates, their hearts true to one another.
Should he lose her, it would destroy him.
Even thought of Zachary failed to stir her. She just wanted peace.
A part of her was nevertheless aware of the wolves closing in and snuffling around her. Her mind thickened with a haze, and she didn’t care about anything, not even the wolf that snarled and slavered so close by.
However, the rhythm of galloping hooves rumbled through the earth, right through her.
“Finally,” said Aunt Stace, “and just in time.”
The ground shook with the trampling of hooves around Karigan, their thud as they impacted wolves. The wolves yowled and cried and scampered, and a tremendous wind blew over her.
Shaper of wind. That’s what they called Salvistar, but Salvistar was dead. He had abandoned her, too.
“Get up, Kari,” Aunt Stace said.
“You’re just a dream,” Karigan mumbled.
The imagined horse lipped her hair. She swatted it away which was answered by a surprised horsey grunt. The horse then clenched the collar of her coat with its teeth and shook her. The reawakening of pain forced her to full awareness. A stallion whiffled in her face. They were nose-to-nose.
“Valstarian,” she murmured.
He shook his mane.
“He will carry you home,” said Aunt Stace. “And you, young fellow,” she told the stallion, “need to help. She can’t mount in this condition.”
Valstarian stomped a large forehoof.
“Now don’t you stomp your foot at me,” she told him. “Your papa wasn’t too proud to assist. He had proper manners.”
Valstarian switched his tail but complied and lowered himself to the ground beside Karigan.
Now at the end of her endurance, she’d only will enough to get herself up onto his back and sit on what appeared to be an old style Green Rider saddle.
When she was secure in her seat, Valstarian rose to his feet.
Aunt Stace looked up at her. “You must find Westrion’s heart, Karigan, or Valstarian will never come into his own. Do you hear me? Westrion cannot help you until you bring him his heart. He is too weak.”
Karigan nodded, only half-hearing.
“I love you, my girl, and am so proud of you. Remember I am with you always.”
“No, don’t leave—”
But Aunt Stace was already gone. Maybe she had never been there in the first place.
“Take me home,” she told Valstarian.
He glanced back with a shining eye before bounding off into the snow.
She clung to his mane—he had no bridle, no reins.
Icy air stung her cheeks. Did they fly, or did it only seem as if they did?
He emitted warmth that melted frostbite from her extremities, but it came with the unfortunate side effect of a burning sensation that surged all the way to her toes and fingertips.
His smooth strides and rhythmic hoofbeats soothed her, however.
“Take me home,” she murmured, “so I can rest. I want to go to bed.”