Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Two

Blayne woke to tendrils of dawn creeping across the floor of the cave. Hope didn't stir when he checked on her. The bluish smudges beneath her eyes indicated bone-deep exhaustion. She was so deeply asleep, he knew she'd not wake for some time. He didn't like to leave her unattended but the compulsion to solve the mystery surrounding her appearance was too great.

He slipped noiselessly from the cave, and backtracked to the clearing where he'd first spotted her. She been curled beneath a large tree, and when he'd first found her, he'd cursorily examined the area. Now he checked it again. Thoroughly. There had to be some small clue he'd overlooked that would reveal the truth.

He found nothing that made any sense. Save for his own footprints, the ground was undisturbed. None of her footprints showed around the base of the trunk nor, indeed, the surrounding area. Barring the compacted soil in the slight depression where she'd lain, there was not a single trace of her passing.

There were rumored to be vast lands beyond the borders known to his people. Perhaps Hope had accompanied travelers from some distant land who'd either died, or abandoned her. He discounted the thought as soon as it formed. Settlement trackers would have found evidence of strangers and reported them to the elders. And then there was the wolf that had led him to Hope to consider—a phantom wolf that had left no tracks. A figment of his imagination? Or a messenger from the gods.

Blayne felt the gods' hands in this mystery. And if the See-View place Hope had spoken of was part of another world, it would explain her clothing. Still, her speech might be overly formal and painfully polite, but it was recognizably Dayamaru. The sooner he could hand his disturbing companion over to Sehan Dayamar's care, the better for his peace of mind.

He jogged back to the cave, planning to organize breakfast before rousing Hope, and convincing her to accompany him to the settlement. He could be a persuasive man—especially where women were concerned. Failing that, he'd drag her kicking and screaming the entire way because, as the gods were his witness, he was not going to leave a helpless blind woman to fend for herself.

The instant he entered the cave Blayne knew he should never have left her alone. She'd awoken and struck out on her own. And she'd taken neither food, water, nor the traveling clothes he'd left out for her.

Kunnandi's snaky fangs, what was she thinking? Stubborn damn female. Even if she didn't succumb to dehydration along the way, chances were high she'd injure herself.

"Great Wisa," he prayed, "please watch over Hope and protect her from harm." At least until he caught up with the foolhardy woman and gave her a piece of his mind .

Blayne packed his possessions but left the pallet, along with a selection of non-perishables that he stored in a stone-covered cache. He'd used this cave before and would do so again. Its seclusion made it a convenient bolt hole when the pressures of his position and the attentions of young women angling for his Promise became wearying. Shouldering his pack, he strode from the cave.

To an experienced tracker, the path she'd taken was strewn with evidence of her passing. Flattened grass, imprints of her footwear in softer areas of ground, bent stalks of foliage, and even strands of her long hair. She wouldn't be traveling too swiftly with that sprained ankle. The vice-like feeling in his chest eased.

A mere half hour later, Blayne caught sight of her limping along, oblivious to all but some unseen path ahead. At least she'd removed her shirt and draped it over her head and shoulders to protect herself from the sun. Now her top was reduced to two triangles of bright crimson cloth that tied around her neck and back. Surprisingly, she was heading in the right direction. If she kept on this track she'd eventually end up on the outskirts of his settlement. Eventually. If she didn't expire from dehydration first.

As he watched, Hope blotted her face with her shirt. He admired her determination. He admired her, even if he did want to shake her 'til her teeth rattled for taking such a stupid—

She stumbled and lurched forward, arms outstretched to break her fall, almost disappearing from view in the long grass.

Blayne broke into a ground-eating jog.

~*~

Hope rolled onto her back, shielding her face from the sun with her shirt. When Blayne spoke, she almost whimpered with gratitude.

"Ready to be sensible now?" he asked.

She licked dry lips. "In exchange for a drink of water, I promise to do whatever you want."

"Really. I find that hard to believe."

He sounded more amused than irritated. Hopefully that meant he'd forgo the lecture she knew she so richly deserved. She struggled to sit, irritated by how difficult she found that simple task.

He slipped an arm beneath her back to assist, then held what she figured was a water-skin to her lips. "Drink," he said.

The cool liquid slipped down her throat. She let him control the flow, allowed herself to slump against his chest. It meant nothing. She was exhausted and scared, not to mention thirsty and hungry—all good enough reasons to let him help her.

"Enough?"

She nodded, and her sigh segued to an indignant splutter when he upended the water-skin over her head. She tried to bat his hands away but he only stopped wetting her down once her makeshift headscarf was thoroughly soaked and water dripped from her nose. "What was that for?" she demanded.

"Call it sunstroke prevention." He tapped the tip of her nose with a gentle finger. "With that fair skin, you risk serious sunburn. Not to mention starvation, dehydration, and by the time night falls, add exposure to the list. So, I'll ask you again: Are you ready to be sensible or do I have to truss you up and drag you behind me?"

"You would resort to that?"

"Try me. Like it or not you're defenseless. I'd not forgive myself if you got attacked by some wild animal looking for an easy meal."

Her stomach cramped. "There are wild animals?"

"Wolves. Boars. Even the occasional big cat that might fancy a change of diet. Venomous snakes, too. Plenty of dangers for the unwary."

"Snakes?"

A firm palm pressed down on her shoulder, preventing her scrambling to her feet in a mad panic. "Relax," he said. "They're more scared of you than you are of them. Will you stay put for a bit? There's something I need to do."

Her heart stuttered. "You are leaving again?"

That warm, comforting hand squeezed her shoulder. "I'm not going far, I promise. In the meantime, have a snack. You missed breakfast." He tossed something into her lap before he walked off.

Hope examined the leaf-wrapped package that had been tied with a length of what felt like raffia. She picked apart the knot and spread the leaf to reveal a large cookie-shaped object. She sniffed. An edible cookie-shaped object. Chock full of dried fruit and nuts. It had been baked to within an inch of its life, and the result rivaled biscotti.

She lay back on the grass as she munched the cookie. This time, more attuned to her surroundings, she detected Blayne's stealthy approach. She didn't believe he walked softly with the intention of deliberately startling her, more that his stealth was an ingrained habit.

"Here." He plunked a hat on her head and the relief from the baking sun was instant.

Hope removed the creation to examine it, running her hands over the tightly woven flax-like leaves. Clever man. She shoved her arms into her shirt, shrugging it into place, and then donned her hat, fussing with the brim until she had angled it to best shade the sun. "It is made well. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, and she had the distinct impression he was pleased by her clumsy compliment. "More water?"

"Please."

She quickly discovered she didn't have the knack of drinking from a bag, or skin, or whatever it was. She spilled water all down herself and once more had to suffer his assistance. "I wish I knew exactly where on earth I was," she grumbled, more to herself than to Blayne while she wrung out her shirtfront.

He heaved what she presumed was an exasperated sigh. "We're in Dayamaria."

"I have never heard of Dayamaria."

"And I've never heard of—"

"Seaview."

"It's strange—"

"What is strange?" Aside from practically everything she'd encountered so far.

"That you speak Dayamaru so well. Your grammar is a bit stilted, and you speak quite formally but—"

"I'm speaking Dayamaru?" What rubbish. How could she be speaking a language she'd never heard of? "I do not speak this Dayamaru. I speak...." She fumbled for the word. "English."

He grunted and muttered something beneath his breath. "Say something in your English then."

"Very well." She scratched her nose, and wondered why it was so difficult to recall the language she'd spoken her entire life.

Finally, thankfully, the familiar words eventually seeped into her brain. "My name is Hope Delamore and I live in Seaview. I'm twenty. Um, I live alone and I like it that way. I love chocolate and mocha lattés and I'm a hopeless cook. Okay, that's it. You understood all that, right?"

After an awkward silence Blayne said, "Did you ask me a question?"

"Yes."

"What did you ask, exactly?"

Hope opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap. "You did not understand a word I said, did you?"

"No."

She couldn't bring herself to believe Blayne was playing some cruel trick on her. He had no reason to pretend he didn't understand. He spoke with sincerity, and his every action so far led her to believe that he was an honorable man.

Panic prickled her skin and she rubbed her arms. "This is ridiculous. There is no such place as Dayamaria. The last I remember I was in my garden, but it got so hot and stifling I rested beneath a tree. How could I have traveled so far from my home without remembering a thing about it?"

She stared in his direction, searching her memories for answers. A dim recollection drifted tantalizingly close but when she reached for the memory, it skittered away. "Aargh! I—I cannot explain it." She hid her face in her hands.

"Neither can I," he said, sounding as troubled as she felt.

Hope's pulse hammered. Her determination to find her own way home was tempered by a growing suspicion that she would fail because she truly had been transported to some vast wilderness and left to fend for herself.

"How do you think you got here?" he asked.

"I do not know. I remember a voice calling me. Then I know no more."

"How can you speak my language?"

"I do not know that, either. It is like—" She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to voice the alien concept. "It is like all your words crowd my mind, waiting for me to find them when I need them." She knuckled her eyes. "It makes my head ache."

"I'm not surprised."

She set her jaw and scowled at nothing in particular. It seemed every time she rebelled against her situation, the headache returned with a vengeance. If she didn't know better she might conclude some bizarre, otherworldly force was guiding her down a predestined path. Keep worrying about this and your head will hurt. Be a good girl and follow the big strong man, and I'll make the headache disappear.

A delusion?

Perhaps. But no more delusional than drifting off to sleep in one world and waking up in another.

"What is next?" she asked.

"Checking the strapping on your ankle."

"And then?"

"I plan on returning to my settlement. It would be best if you came with me."

"Why?"

"When I say 'Dayamar', what does that mean to you?"

She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't appreciate his clumsy attempt to change the subject, but the word he'd emphasized snagged in her mind, refusing to be dismissed. "Dayamar. It is a name, I think. I feel like it is familiar but I do not know why." She glared in his general direction. "What is the significance of this name?"

"Hope, I need you to come with me. Please."

"But I do not want to go to your settlement. I want to go home!"

"And I wish I could help you, but I don't know where your home is. I know someone who might be able to help, though."

She sensed that he was holding his breath, willing her to cooperate. Defeated, she flopped back on the ground and closed her eyes, trying to shut out her troubles. "I cannot recall—how long did you say it would take to reach this settlement of yours?"

"About a week's travel at my usual pace."

"I guess we must walk?"

"Of course. How else would we get there?"

She tossed him a weak smile. "How else indeed."

A week of walking? Where were cars, or even horses, when you needed them? "Could you not return me to the place you found me and leave me there? Maybe whatever brought me here will occur again and return me to my home."

Wait for it—

The inevitable headache bloomed. She scrunched her eyes shut, willing the pain to subside.

"There was a wolf sniffing around you," Blayne said. "How long do you think you would you survive on your own while you waited to be returned to your home?"

She shivered. "You could wait with me."

Silence. And then, "My people need me. I've already been gone too long."

The headache worsened and this time her stomach rebelled, too. Blayne held the hair back from her face while she vomited up her fears. And when she'd emptied her stomach, he cradled her in his arms while she cried for everything she'd lost.

Go with him. He will keep you safe. Trust him. He will help you. Trust him.

The inner voices nagged her. The more she resisted, the worse her head ached and throbbed, until the pain was so overwhelming she wanted to scream. And as if that wasn't punishment enough, the truth of her situation smacked her like a punch from an unseen assailant. She was stuck here in this wild, primitive place. Without Blayne, she would be at the mercy of animals, the weather, and her own ignorance. She had to go with him. She had no choice.

She gave in. She'd go wherever Blayne cared to take her. Anything was better than suffering like this. Or wandering around alone, at the mercy of whatever creature decided she'd make a tasty snack.

All right, all right. I get it already! I'm going with him, okay? That's what you want me to do, right? Happy now?

Hope's headache vanished and she resisted the urge to make a rude gesture to the cosmos. Instead, she rinsed the sour taste from her mouth and allowed Blayne to tug her to her feet.

Here—now—was real. She had to put aside her yearning for the only home she'd known, treat it like a distant memory... and face the very real possibility she would live out the rest of her life in this place.

Clasping Blayne's hand, Hope took a huge step into the unknown.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com