Moving Targets and Other Tales of Valdemar

Mola seized the clovers by the handful and shoved them into her pockets until they bulged. Only then she rose, and nearly tumbled from the crag. Her legs had gone as shaky as slender twigs in a wind storm. It took her inordinately long to clamber down from the rocky ledge. But, once there, she dropped to the ground and rolled like a child down the grassy mountainside.

My dream was real! I found the clover! None of the pains in Mola’s body, nothing she had suffered, could take away the joy of that moment. She still had a slog back through a swamp that might contain another drake. She might not find her mount waiting when she returned, and she would have to drag her weary, painful bones all the way home. Yet, none of that mattered. She had survived a drake and a bear. She would make it home. She would save Charlin and prove that she had some worth, even without the Gifts of the Heralds and Healers.

Mola slammed into something hard and stable that brought her to an abrupt halt. She lay for a moment in utter uncertainty, hoping for a rock, worried for another bear. Dizzily, she focused on the unwavering thing that had blocked her path. Two blurry white pillars stood in front of her.

Pillars? I’m inside. Tears welled in Mola’s eyes. It was all a dream? Just a big, fat, stupid dream? Disappointment flooded through her, erasing the happiness that nothing else had managed to dispel. Yet, the grass remained green beneath her. The terrible odor of swamp still filled her nostrils. Her pockets protruded. She looked up the long, white pillars to a sweet pink nose and two blue eyes studying her curiously. Mola was still on the mountain, at the feet of a Companion.

“Rexla?” Mola tried, hoping Corry had changed his mind and come to rescue her.

The horse-like creature lowered its head to whuffle into Mola’s face.

Though the Companions all resembled one another, with their white coats, silvery hooves, and enormous blue eyes, years of helping in the stable allowed Mola to notice their differences as easily as a mother distinguishes her identical twins. She sat up, waiting for the vertigo to disperse. Now, she recognized the creature in front of her. It was Melahar, Elborik’s colt, who had not yet Chosen.

“I’m sorry, Melahar. Forgive me, I was dizzy from rolling. And I just fought a—” Mola crinkled her eyes in confusion. “What are you doing here, Melahar?” She did not expect an answer. Companions could not directly communicate with those not Gifted.

:I’ve come to Choose.:

“Oh.” Mola looked around, trying to find the Herald lucky enough to bond with Elborik’s son. She had not seen another human on the cliffs.

:Don’t be stupid, Mola. I Choose you.:

:Me? You Choose me?: Only then it occurred to Mola that she had used Mind-hearing, Mindspeech.

:The clover made the Herald stronger!:

Mola pulled a handful from her pocket and looked at the drooping plants. “But I haven’t even delivered it yet.” The significance of the words penetrated deeper. “Charlin is better? She’s better?”

Melahar reached down and gently ate the clover off of Mola’s palm: :No, Mola. I’m afraid Charlin’s dead.:

A boulder hurled at Mola’s chest could not have hit her harder. :But ... how can that be? You said the clover made the Herald stronger.:

:And it did, my Herald. It made you stronger.: Melahar nosed through Mola’s pocket for more clover. :Your mind channels were just open enough for me to send you the dreams. It took this journey to fully activate them.:

Absently, Mola pulled out a huge batch of clover for her Companion and reveled in the soft touch of Melahar’s nose against her hand. My Companion. I have a Companion. She threw her arms around the delicately arched white neck, spilling the clover to the ground. Joy beyond what she had ever known surged through Mola and, with it, an incredible sense of responsibility. :Melahar, can you help me find Corry’s knife? I need to return it.:

Melahar whinnied. :He said not to worry about it.:

:He said ... You mean he was ... in on it?:

:They all were. I had to spread the word. Otherwise, you might have talked one of them into going instead of you.:

Mola flushed scarlet. She had tried to do exactly that.